


In Between The Pages

by Lawrievs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Just so you know what you're getting into, M/M, Professor Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin-centric, a little behind the scenes on the teacher's lives too, fill in the blanks, i'm re-reading the series and the third book gave me too many feelings, remus and mcgonagall are friends and nobody can convince me otherwise fight me, this is going to be very sad, this is the result, what remus was thinking through all that happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawrievs/pseuds/Lawrievs
Summary: When Remus Lupin came back to Hogwarts in 1993, a lot of things were different. He wasn't a student any longer, his best friends were all either dead to him or actually dead, and he didn't have a galleon to his name.This is a collection of moments from Remus' year as a teacher and all the things we didn't read about in The Prisoner of Azkaban.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80
Collections: Harry Potter - Remus Lupin centric





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Remus has a mini panic attack in the bathroom.

He was back in the Shrieking Shack, sprawled on the floor, every inch of his body aching.

“Back here again, Moony?” said a familiar voice. His feet made the floorboards creak with each step. “Are you trying to relive our golden days at Hogwarts?”

Shiny black shoes came to a stop just a few inches away from his face. Remus managed to raise his head just enough to see some school trousers and an untucked dress shirt.

“Go away,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“You should make up your mind, mate; first you come looking for me and then you tell me to go away? That’s a way to confuse a lad,” his deep voice was tinted with amusement.

“I didn’t come looking for you, I came here to make a living,” Remus said, annoyed. He wanted to get up and shout at him, but he was tired. So, so tired. “I just want to move on with my life.”

“You can’t erase me,” he said petulantly. “Whatever you tell yourself, I’m still important to you. Those feelings are still there, no matter how hard you try to bury them.”

His annoyance gave way to anger, boiling hot inside his chest. “Stop telling me what I feel or don’t feel. If I want to forget about you I will, even if I spend my whole life trying.”

“Good luck doing that in the place where it all started.”

Remus closed his eyes, thinking of a clever answer, but he was right. He’d gone straight to the source of all those memories he’d been trying so hard to forget. When he opened them again, Sirius Black was crouched next to him, just as he was in their school days. This was seventeen year old Sirius as he remembered him, mischievous and carefree, with his crooked tie and cocky grin. His longish black hair was swept to one side, away from his face so his grey irises were in full display.

“Please, go away,” whispered Remus again, his voice dripping with desperation.

“You go away,” said Sirius childishly.

“I can’t move. I’m exhausted, Padfoot, I can’t deal with you on top of everything.”

He felt like Atlas, crushed by the weight of the world. The burden of his choices weighted on him as much as the things in his life he couldn’t control; his condition, his feelings, other people’s betrayals and prejudices.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius replied with a sad smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sirius lay next to him, refusing to take his eyes off Remus. He raised a hand and laid it on Remus’ cheek. His touch was delicate, loving. Remus felt helpless, back to being seventeen and unable to resist the human hurricane that was Sirius Black.

“Why did you do it?” he whispered.

But Sirius didn’t answer. Instead, he inched closer, his mouth only a breath away from his. Remus let his eyelids drop and reached for Sirius’ neck, felt his smooth hair and the warmth of his skin.

“What are you doing?” said a girl’s voice, suddenly. Remus opened his eyes, expecting to see Sirius in front of him, but coming face to face with Lily Evans instead. She was the one who now lied next to him, examining him suspiciously with her intense green eyes.

“Nothing!” he startled, putting some distance between them. “I was just…”

He was racking his brain for an explanation, but everything started to melt around him. Lily’s face became hazy until it disappeared completely, followed by the rest of the Shrieking Shack. All at once, the floor gave way from under him, plunging him into darkness. As he was plummeting into the unknown, he heard another girl’s voice.

“I was looking for Ron,” she said apologetically.

Remus kept falling, but he was too confused to be afraid. Another person spoke, a boy this time. “Come in and sit down. Not here, I’m here!”

That’s when he realized he was dreaming.

He woke up with a start. It took him a few seconds to realize he was not in the Whomping Willow, but in a compartment inside of the Hogwarts Express, on his way to the castle and his new life. Or at least he should’ve been on his way there. The train had stopped and the power had gone out which, given the weather outside, meant they’d been plunged into darkness. The voices he’d heard inside his dream had actually come from the people that where in the compartment with him, a bunch of students by the sound of them.

“Quiet,” he said.

The room fell silent. His brain started working at a hundred miles per hour, analysing the situation. This was not good. In all his years at Hogwarts the train had never lost its power—something must’ve happened. He remembered the pocket flames he had put somewhere inside his robes and took them out quickly, which allowed him to get a glimpse of his surroundings. There were five young faces around him, twisted in diverse stages of surprise, fear and awe. They watched him intently, awaiting his next move

“Stay where you are,” he said, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

However, as he stood up, the door of the compartment opened slowly, revealing a dark and tall figure on the other side.

The Dementor towered over them, making the room cold with its bare presence. Its hand was clearly visible where it lay on the doorway and, under the light of the flames, the grey skin looked like decaying flesh. The creature inhaled. Immediately, he felt all of his strength leave him. It was like in the dream but worse, because he couldn’t let himself go and give up. As a professor, he was responsible for these children now; he had to keep them safe.

Remus took out his wand and started towards the Dementor, carefully going over one of the kids, who’d fallen from his seat.

“None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks,” he said firmly. “Go.”

Yet the Dementor didn’t move. It kept breathing in, and images started to flash inside Remus’ head, one after another. His mother crying in the kitchen while his father’s eyes stared ahead, looking defeated. James shouting at Sirius, while Remus lay on an Infirmary bed, unable to look at either of them. His hands clutching a letter, the ink splotched by his own tears. Peter’s mother in black robes, hugging him tightly as she sobbed desperately. The Prophet laying on his old kitchen table, with Sirius’ ashen face looking right at him from his place in the front page.

Remus pushed the memories away and forcefully replaced them with others. His mother reclined next to him on a mattress, reading a book aloud. A twelve-year-old James, wearing enormous glasses and smiling with a toothy grin, calling him Moony for the first time. The Maurader’s Map sprawled on the dormitory floor, displaying every inch of the castle, while James hugged Peter and Sirius tried to force Remus to have some firewhisky. James and Lily, radiant in their wedding robes, raising a glass next to a handsome Sirius.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he said in a whisper.

He could only see the outline of a silver wolf coming out of his wand, but it was enough. The Dementor backed away and retreated down the corridor, taking the cold with him.

Remus turned around to check on the kids. One of the girls had curled down next to the window, trembling, while the rest were gathered around a boy. He had fallen from his seat and was shaking violently. Remus got closer to them, trying to gauge if he was okay, when the lights turned on again, illuminating the compartment. Remus could finally make out the kids' faces, but his gaze got caught in one in particular. He was trying so hard to control his emotions that, after the train started moving, he didn’t even attempt to remain standing when inertia pushed him into a seat.

The boy laying on the ground was the spitting image of James, from his messy hair to the shape of his face. It was Harry Potter, James and Lily’s son. Remus had known he’d be Harry’s teacher and, therefore, had been bracing himself for their meeting. Except he had thought that he’d see him for the first time at the feast, from a distance, not after a Dementor encounter that had rattled him deeply.

By the time Harry came to, Remus had managed to compose himself. However, when he spotted his green eyes, so similar to Lily’s, a knot started constricting his throat. While Harry asked his friends about what had happened, Remus busied himself searching inside his pockets for some chocolate.

“Here, eat it. It will help,” he said, handing him an enormous piece of chocolate.

Harry accepted it but didn’t eat it. Instead, his eyes bared into Remus, wearing a deeply troubled expression. “What was that thing?”

“A Dementor,” he replied, giving chocolate to the rest of the kids to avoid looking at Harry. There was a ginger boy who must’ve been a Weasley, another who was the spitting image of Frank Longbottom, and a girl with bushy hair and a worried expression. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.”

Lastly, he approached the girl in the corner, whose face was completely covered by her fiery red hair. He handed her an especially big chunk. When he was finished, he crumpled the paper and pocketed it. “Eat, it should help,” Remus said smiling, talking with a confidence he didn’t really feel.

All of the sudden, he couldn’t take being in that little compartment any longer. It was so full of a mix of his past and future, the memories of happy times now tinted by the tragedy of the present, he felt like his heart was trying to burst from inside his chest. He needed time to compose himself. He had to get out. “I need to speak to the driver, excuse me.”

It took all of his self-control not to storm out. He walked into the hallway and strolled decisively through the train, smiling at any student that passed him by. His expression was calm due to years of practice; Remus Lupin considered himself somewhat of a professional liar, perks of his condition. He could feel like he was breaking into a million little pieces, but he’d always look collected. 

As soon as he reached a bathroom, he got inside and locked himself in. Only then did he finally allow his emotions to show. He crumpled against the wall, breathing heavily. “You’re okay, Remus, you’re okay,” he repeated like a mantra.

Harry was so grown up and he looked so much like James. He hadn’t been ready for that. Had it really been twelve years since James and Lily’s death? Sometimes the pain felt so sharp, it was as if he’d lost them yesterday. Harry Potter was the last that remained of two of his best friends, the perfect combination of them both. And in that moment, locked in the Hogwart’s Express’ bathroom, Remus decided he would do everything to protect Harry. Even if it meant facing his worst fears. For Harry, he felt capable of finally going face to face with Sirius Black.

After a few minutes, he started to feel calmer. He splashed his face with water and got back to the hallway, resuming his way to the beginning of the train. This was all the extent of a mental break down he was allowed, no more. He’d speak to the conductor, write a letter, and use the emergency owl to send it to Hogwarts so they were aware of what’d happened. And then, he’d return to the compartment and face his best friend’s son, like he was just another student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! I haven't written fanfic in a while, but I'm re-reading the third book and this just came out. All these years later, and I still have too many feelings regarding these two. Sorry for the angst (?)
> 
> If you see any mistakes, please point them out! Or if you have any feedback, that'd be great. Reviews feed my soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of bullying.

The Great Hall looked so different from the teacher’s table. He could see the four tables from there, full of chattering students. It was strange to think he’d been among them once, though it felt like a lifetime ago.

His arrival had elicited mixed reactions from the other teachers, ranging from the indifference of professor Sinestra to blabbering excitement from Flitwick—who’d always had a soft spot for him. Snape greeted him politely, but his gaze was as cold as a Dementor’s, which told Remus that he hadn’t forgotten their past interactions. Only McGonagall was missing and, if he was completely honest, she was the one he was the most nervous about meeting again. Not only because she’d been the Head of Gryffindor when he was a student, but he’d had plenty of other dealings with her through the years—mostly due to the Marauder’s mischievous actions.

The Sorting Ceremony went by uneventfully, and only once it was finished did McGonagall arrive with Harry and his friend, Hermione, in tow. She took a seat right next to Remus.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall said, the ghost of a smile on her thin lips.

“Professor McGonagall, it’s always a pleasure. I see you got my letter,” he replied, also smiling.

“Yes, that was good thinking on your part,” she said with a nod. “Though I’m not sure Potter was very happy about all the fuss that came with it.”

His reply was interrupted by Dumbledore, who stood up to address the student body. Every gaze fell on Remus when Dumbledore presented him as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He plastered a friendly smile on his face while everyone clapped politely, but was pleased to see that the few students that’d been with him on the train applauded with more enthusiasm. He hoped his classes were worthy of the faith they’d put in him.

Once Dumbledore finished and food filled their plates, McGonagall spoke again. “All your school dalliances aside, I’m glad professor Dumbledore hired you.”

“Thank you, professor. I hope to get some tips from you, I reckon I’ve never seen someone manage a class like you do.”

“Oh, call me Minerva, we’re colleagues now,” she said, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. Then, she took her goblet and had a big gulp of something which smelled suspiciously like firewhiskey. Apparently, the teacher’s table had its perks. “And regarding your classes, it’s all a matter of personal style. I doubt my techniques would be of much use—you smile too much, you know. Nevertheless, if after your first week you still feel like you need a hand, I’ll be happy to assist.”

He had a great time chatting with professor McGonagall about her experiences as a teacher, she even peppered in a few anecdotes from some of her recent students that had him choking on his pumpkin juice. She warned him to be on the lookout for some Weasley twins. "They'd give the Potter and Black of your time a run for their money." Her words were like a punch to the gut. The dichotomy between who his friends had been and what they were—or rather, weren't— now felt so incongruous. His shock must've shown on his face, for McGonagall changed the subject quickly, but it was a while before Remus felt like himself again.

Hagrid, who sat on his other side, also held his attention for a while. Apparently, he planned to teach the third years about hippogriffs the next day and could barely contain his excitement. Remus listened politely and promised to go take a look at them once he was settled.

By the end of the night, he didn’t only feel less nervous around his new colleagues, but also like he’d come back home. The familiarity of the Great Hall made warmth spread through his whole body, which was even more pronounced given the excited energy that buzzed through the room and the weight of a full meal inside his belly. He hadn’t eaten this much in years. Once the Feast was finished, he was ready to go to bed and, hopefully, finally have a good night’s sleep. Then, he remembered he had no clue where he was staying; he’d spent seven years at Hogwarts, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever known where the Defense teacher slept. As if he’d read his mind, Dumbledore approached him.

“My apologies for not greeting you properly earlier, Remus. Welcome back to Hogwarts!” he said, shaking his hand. “I’m glad you’ve joined us, I think you’ll be an excellent addition to the staff.” Then he turned around to call Snape’s attention. “Severus, would you be so kind as to accompany professor Lupin and show him the way to his rooms? I think you two have a lot to catch up on.”

And with a wink, he left Remus with his old school acquaintance. Snape’s expression was so sour he thought he’d start insulting him right then and there. Instead, he just gave him a contemptuous look and started walking out of the room. Remus followed him but didn’t lower his guard; evidently, Snape had enough sense not to expose himself in front of the rest of the castle, yet who knew what he was capable of once they were alone?

They remained silent the whole way towards his quarters, but once they arrived at the door of his new residence, Remus was proven right. Snape stopped and turned around to face him with a sneer. “Look Lupin, the Headmaster might think that you’re a domesticated little werewolf, but you don’t fool me. I remember what you’re capable of,” he said in a nasal voice.

Remus shouldn’t have been surprised that the first thing Snape talked about was an incident from their school days, which had taken place more than ten years ago. The git new how to hold a grudge.

“About that, Severus, I never got the chance to explain…”

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” he interrupted. “Just know that, by Dumbledore’s orders, I’m to prepare your wolfbane potion, cover for you regarding your little _condition,_ ” his tone dripped with disgust when he said the word, “and be civil towards you—which is more than you deserve. However, I don’t trust you one bit. If I have even the slightest inclination that you have any contact whatsoever with Black, I’ll make sure you’re fired and locked in Azkaban for concealing and enabling a murderer.”

Snape’s eyes shined with a level of hatred Remus hadn’t seen in ages.

“I assure you, I haven’t had contact with Sirius Black in years and I don’t plan to. You have nothing to worry about,” he said calmly.

It was as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“One wrong move and I don’t care what the Headmaster says, I’ll tell everyone what you really are.”

Remus’ mask of calmness finally cracked. “You wouldn’t dare,” he spat, hatred mixed with fear inside him.

“Oh, but I would. We’re not sixteen anymore, you see; you’re actions have consequences now,” he stopped talking for a second, savouring his victory. “I’ll be watching you, Lupin.”

And with that, Snape turned around and stormed down the corridor. Dramatic as ever.

After their encounter, Remus couldn’t get the sleep he’d so coveted; Snape’s words had managed to sour his first night in the castle. When the morning arrived, Remus’ body weighted on him more than ever. He felt disappointed on himself for having let Snape get under his skin, but couldn’t help himself. The man had hit a nerve.

His room, still in complete disarray from last night—he couldn’t make himself unpack just yet—, didn’t offer much cheering up, so he decided to go somewhere else to clear his mind. As his first class didn’t start until after lunch, he decided to go to the staff room to pass the time. Maybe there he’d be able to get some work done.

Except, once he arrived, he was instantly distracted by a shake coming from the cloak closet. "What’s that?” he asked curiously to professor Flitwick, the only other teacher in the room.

The tiny wizard, who had his nose buried in an enormous tome that looked at least several centuries old, barely glanced up as he answered. “Oh, must be a Boggart,” he said nonchalantly. “They like to get in that specific closet for some reason, always give professor Sprout a mighty fright—it’s quite entertaining.”

Remus’ spirits improved considerably. A Boggart? He was to teach the third years about magical creatures and the Boggart was as good a place to start as any, so why not start with a practical lesson? Finally, luck was on his side again.

* * *

As he’d predicted, his first class with the third years was a complete success. Apart from the fact that he’d had to stop a fake Lord Voldemort from appearing in front of a bunch of thirteen year olds and subsequently revealed the full moon as his worst fear, the students thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Most importantly, he’d given some confidence back to poor Neville Longbottom, who seemed to have been a constant subject to Snape’s special brand of cruelty. No child deserved to be shamed by an adult in front of his classmates, no matter how poorly he performed. He wanted to think he’d returned some of Neville’s self-confidence with the Boggart. And if he’d exercised a little vengeance on the side, well, that was just a welcome side effect.

Predictively, by the next day the news of his peculiar teaching methods had reached the other professors. His arrival in the Great Hall was accompanied by a few whispers and greetings from his students, which he attributed just to his successful lessons from the past day. He also didn’t think anything of it when Snape scowled in his direction. After all, the man felt a natural animosity towards him, so what was new?

However, as soon as he reached the teacher’s table, Hagrid beckoned him over with a panicked expression. “I wouldn’ show my face if I were yeh,” he said in a loud whisper. “Yer Boggart business is all the kids’ been talkin' 'bout, an' last I heard, professor Snape’s furious.”

Remus looked at Snape, who sat on the other side of the table brandishing a butter knife, a murderous glint in his eyes. After that, he thought it was best if he didn’t tempt fate; he downed a cup of black coffee, ravished two pieces of toast and fled the Great Hall. Snape didn’t seem in full control of his faculties, and he didn’t particularly like the idea of being part of an altercation on his first week

He decided to skip lunch—certainly not because of Snape, he was just very busy, thank you very much—, but following his afternoon class he started feeling a little faint. He considered asking the house elves for a snack, but then remembered that the teacher’s lounge had a kettle and some tea. Going down to the kitchens felt like a lot of work for his tired body, therefore, he decided to better head to the staff room for a little pick me up. Maybe he’d even be able to get a little work done before dinner.

Fortunately, the space was empty except for professor McGonagall, who sat reading on a table near the window. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him enter.

“Well Remus, it hasn’t been a week since you arrived and you’ve already started making trouble. I see old habits die hard.”

He felt himself flush, so he tried to hide it by placing his things on the table and looking preoccupied by taking out his books.

“I don’t know what you mean, professor McGonagall,” he said in an even tone.

“For Merlin’s sake, call me Minerva, you’re not a school boy anymore. What I _mean_ is that your little jab at professor Snape is the talk of the castle,” McGonagall said severely.

For and instant, Remus felt genuinely scared by her tone, until he lifted his gaze and could see she was smiling.

“What can I say, it’s a talent,” he said, relaxing into one of the chairs.

“I can see that. Do you want some tea? I was just about to put the kettle on.”

Remus nodded gratefully. He’d been so taken aback by McGonagall’s comment that he’d forgotten his real reason for hiding in the staff room. McGonagall tapped her wand against the iron kettle that sat on a battered coffee table, and it instantly started boiling. Then she opened a tin box full of tea bags and dried herbs, which she offered to him.

“I banned tea leaves, because Sybill kept coming down here to try to make us a cuppa so she could read our future,” she snorted. “I come to this place to work and maybe have a little chat with my colleagues, not to be pestered with nonsense predictions.”

A laugh escaped Remus’ lips at hearing professor McGonagall be so franc with him. “Still not a fan of Divination?” he said, choosing some mint leaves and thanking her.

“It wouldn’t be so bothersome if she didn’t set her mind to scare her third year students witless every year.” She poured hot water into a couple of cups, some chipped things from a mismatched set that sat next to the kettle. Remus took his cup and thanked her again, letting the water cool a bit before adding his mint leaves. “Yesterday, they came to my class petrified, because she thought it wise to predict that Harry Potter would be the one to die this year. Like the poor thing doesn’t have enough to worry about.”

Curiosity ate at Remus from the inside; he wanted to know more about Harry and his life since his parents had died, but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask. He put two sugar cubes in his tea to buy himself some time to think. It turned out it wasn’t necessary for him to keep inquiring, because either McGonagall really wanted to keep talking about Harry, or she sensed Remus’ hesitation.

“The boy is so like his father it’s uncanny sometimes,” she said with a warm smile that Remus didn’t get to see, as his gaze was still fixated on his cup. “He doesn’t have his swagger or charm, but he inherited his ability to get into trouble. And you should see him flying, the only reason we haven’t won the Quidditch Cup yet is that we’ve had some rotten luck the last two years.”

“He plays Quidditch too?” Remus asked, finally looking at McGonagall.

The older witch gave him a tender look as she sat beside him. “He’s the team’s seeker, the youngest one in almost a hundred years. I saw him make a perfect dive the first time he rode a broomstick, it was truly remarkable. I recruited him for the team on the spot—one of my sharpest moments, if I do say so myself,” she boasted with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Remus was starting to feel a little choked up, but he still managed to laugh. “I can’t wait to see him play, then,” he hesitated, but couldn’t help but add, “James would be so proud.”

“He certainly would be,” McGonagall said softly. Then, she took a sip from her tea and made a face, before taking a sugar cube. “I always promise myself I’m going to quit sugar, but drinking tea without it is close to unbearable.”

They kept talking for a while after that, and later kept themselves company while they worked until dinner. It had been an eventful few days, but Remus was starting to feel like he could get used to this new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot of fun imagining what the teacher's lives at Hogwarts are like, and I can't help but think that Remus must've found everything kinda bizarre at the beginning...
> 
> Hope you guys liked it! This is unbetaed so if you see any mistakes, feel free to tell me. And if you could leave a comment, that'd be especially nice :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kinda got away from me... oops?
> 
> Trigger warning: depressive episode.

The first two months of the school year were relatively uneventful. Well, there was the incident with Hagrid’s hippogriff, but apart from that everything was going smoothly. Remus’ classes kept him busy and entertained, he loved interacting with his students, and they challenged him constantly with their questions and never-ending curiosity. It was a nice feeling, being appreciated for his work. Everything was working out, even the full moon had come and gone without incident—thanks to Snape’s wolfbane potion. The other man still hated Remus with a passion, but he had learned to hide it better. They treated each other with civility and, even if Snape was an annoying prick, as long as he kept making sure he could safely transform every month, who cared? Their silent war seemed at an impasse.

Remus should’ve known that it couldn’t last. Life was too keen on throwing him constant curveballs for him to be able to enjoy peace for too long, and it all exploded on Halloween.

The day started normal enough: he had breakfast in the Great Hall, spent some time in the staff room grading papers, received the Grindylow he needed for his next class and placed its tank in his office, then had lunch. He had a lot of work to do, so he considered returning to read a couple more essays, but finally decided to give himself a break. What convinced him wasn’t the fact that it was a Saturday or Halloween, nor McGonagall’s sharp comments about the bags under his eyes. In the end it all boiled down, as it always did, to his “furry little problem”. Remus was due to transform that night, which meant that his whole body ached and he felt even more tired than usual. So, when returning to work proved impossible, Remus just gave up.

The walk to his rooms was quiet. Most student had gone to Hogsmade, eager to take the opportunity to get out of the castle. It was nice, walking through the hallways without throngs of students clogging them; it reminded him of his night escapades when he was a teen. Once he arrived at his quarters, however, the silence started to feel oppressive. With nothing to distract him, every second crawled at a flobberworm’s pace. He felt increasingly more restless, dreading the full moon rising, yet wishing it was over once and for all.

First, he tried to read, but it was impossible to find a comfortable position. Then, he started pacing the length of the room, willing the minutes to pass, but every time he looked at the clock not even a few ticks had gone by. Fed up with his own restless energy, Remus decided to go for a walk again; given how he was going to miss the Halloween feast, maybe he could even stock up on some food from the kitchens to cheer himself up later.

He hadn’t even finished opening the door when he heard footsteps from outside. Moments later, he saw none other than Harry Potter walking down the corridor.

“Harry? What are you doing?” he asked, surprised to see him alone. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“At Hogsmade,” Harry replied, trying to appear nonchalant. He didn’t elaborate, but Remus sensed a deep frustration radiating from his countenance. Then McGonagall’s words came to mind, about how Harry had been raised by some cruel muggle relatives—they probably hadn’t signed his permission slip.

“Why don’t you come in?”

The words left his mouth before he could think twice about them, but he couldn’t leave the poor boy wandering through the castle alone. To his surprise, Harry happily agreed. They sat and Remus offered him some tea—he'd decided to procure some after realizing he couldn't rely on the staff room forever. It was quite nice talking to Harry. Even though he looked a lot like James, he didn’t share his boisterous energy or need for attention. He had his innate curiosity, but was mostly just a quiet kid with a lot going on in his head.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Snape, bearing the wolfsbane potion. Remus had been so immersed in their conversation he'd almost forgotten about his approaching transformation.

“Severus!” he said smiling, trying to feign some semblance of friendliness for Harry’s sake. “Thank you, could you leave it here, on the desk?” Snape did, but not before looking at him and his companion suspiciously. “I was showing Harry my Grindylow.”

“Fascinating,” he said without even looking. “You should take it now, Lupin.”

“Yes, yes, in a minute.”

“I’ve made a whole cauldron, if you need more…”

“I’ll probably have some tomorrow. Thank you, Severus.”

Why wouldn’t the git just _go away_? Remus would bet his hat that he was thinking of ways to hint at his lycanthropy without being too obvious.

“You’re welcome,” Snape said in farewell, a worrying glint in his eye.

Harry observed the whole exchange with alarmed eyes. Once Snape was gone, he didn’t say anything, just stared at the cup that contained the only thing that kept Remus Lupin from being a menace to society. Before things could get awkward, Remus decided it was better if he didn’t make a big deal out of it. Therefore, he told him something as close to the truth as possible—he’d learned that it was easier to keep track of lies that way.

However, Harry didn’t seem to be particularly curious about his mysterious sickness, appearing mostly preoccupied with Snape’s part in the whole affair. He looked at Remus as he took a sip of the potion, hesitated, and then started talking.

“Professor Snape is very interested in the Dark Arts.”

Remus took another sip, buying himself some time to think. “Really?” was the only answer he managed, faking disinterest. What was the boy getting at?

“Some say…” Harry stopped, unsure. Then his face steeled, and he continued. “Some say he’d be capable of anything to get the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Remus almost spat out some of wolfsbane, but thankfully managed to keep the liquid inside his mouth. He concentrated very hard on trying to keep a straight face. As a teacher, he couldn’t tell Harry he was right about Snape’s animosity towards him, that’d be highly unprofessional. On the other hand, he couldn’t calm his fears either, given that Snape's potion had to do with his condition. In the end, he feigned indifference, but it was clear Harry wasn’t fooled. To avoid further trouble, he had to end up dismissing him earlier than he'd wished. It was a pity, really; he’d enjoyed talking to the boy.

That night, his transformation was especially unpleasant. It didn’t particularly hurt—not more than normal, at least—, but he sensed some kind of nervous energy throughout the whole course of the night. His sensitive ears picked up voices and footsteps until the early hours of the morning. Had something happened? Maybe there'd been an accident, or some students were making trouble. Curiosity kept nagging at him, yet there was nothing he could do—he wasn’t about to start going around the castle in wolf form.

Once the moon finally set, he lay in bed exhausted, unable to either sleep or get up. Speculating about that night’s incident had kept his mind occupied during the transformation, but now that he was back to his normal self he couldn’t get himself to act on his curiosity. It was the tiredness that consumed him, taking all his motivation with it. So, he just lay there, resigned to his ignorance until Madame Pomfrey arrived to check on him. And then he wished he’d stayed blissfully unaware.

As soon as she arrived, she informed him Sirius had entered the castle. As she examined him, Madame Pomfrey narrated the night’s events in a hushed voice. He’d tried to school his features when she gave him the news, although he was sure she’d been able to tell something was off. Once she veered into other subjects, Remus’ mind wandered. Her voice was a mere murmur, like a badly tuned radio he only half-heard as she checked his vitals. When she was done, he realized with a start he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Excuse me?” he said sheepishly.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d better spend some time in the Hospital Wing. You don’t look very well, professor,” Madame Pomfrey said with a worried expression.

“Thank you, but don’t worry, I’m used to dealing with this alone,” he answered with what he thought was a reassuring smile, but ended up as just a sad grimace.

Madame Pomfrey nodded and looked at him with pity. Her gaze made him ashamed, want to crawl out of his skin and never let anyone lay eyes on him again. He should’ve been used to it by now, but no matter how many years passed, he still couldn’t stand being pitied.

“I could bring you some food if you like…”

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Remus said, making light on the subject. “I’ll just call one of the House Elves.”

“If you’re sure…”

She gave him a last worried look before exiting his quarters, and Remus could finally breathe easy again. Well, as much as he could with Sirius’ break-in weighting on his conscience. Sirius Black had been inside the castle at the same time as he was. His chest felt heavy with a mix of feelings he couldn’t even begin to understand. Anger, excitement, fear, melancholy and, most of all, guilt. Guilt because, according to Madame Pomfrey, they’d searched the whole castle and not only hadn’t been able to find Sirius, they didn’t have a clue how he’d gotten in.

Remus had an incline. And he wasn’t going to tell anyone.

The knowledge that he didn’t have the strength to come forward and tell Dumbledore what the Marauders had done for him, made the agony of transformation feel like a mere prick from a needle. The thought of revealing that his best friends had turned into illegal Animagi to wander with a werewolf through the grounds… He shuddered at the thought of what that conversation would be like. Even if it meant endangering Harry, he couldn’t stand disappointing Dumbledore. He was too weak, too dependent on the opinion of the Headmaster; he was the only one who’d believed in him, given him a chance, and if his good opinion of Remus disappeared, the last of his own self-respect would most definitely follow.

On Monday, Remus couldn’t get out of bed. It wasn’t just that he was tired or that his body ached, it was as if all energy had left him. He experienced the whole weight of his life as he hadn’t felt it in years—the tragedy of his friendships, his lycanthropy, his long-lost love. The only thing he managed to do was write a quick note to Dumbledore and summon a House Elf to deliver it for him. It was lucky he did given that, because of that glimpse into his pathetic condition, the elves took pity on him and kept him fed during his whole convalescence. It wasn’t like he was hungry, but the elves pestering forced him to eat a bit, at least for politeness sake.

His thoughts were constantly plagued by Sirius' face. When he was awake, he theorized about how he’d gotten out of Azkaban, how he’d entered the castle and if him being an Animagus had anything to do with it. Was Remus an accomplice in his attempts to kill Harry? Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him, the reason that had made him turn to Voldemort. What could’ve possibly overridden the disgust he felt for his family’s ideals? No matter how many times he circled around those questions, he hadn’t managed to find a satisfactory answer in ten years.

The worst came at night, though. Sirius’ skeletal face, the one he’d become so familiar with courtesy of the Daily Prophet, was replaced with another one: handsome, young and always smiling. Sometimes there were pieces of memories, like that time they threw Peter into the lake or that game of Truth or Dare in the Common Room. Other times, his brain just made up fresh ways to torment him: alternate realities where Sirius hadn’t betrayed them, reunions with Peter and James, kisses that had never happened. Every night that week, Remus dreamt about that Sirius from school, and every morning he awaked it was a fresh torture. 

When he heard a knock on the door on his third day, he knew immediately who it was. Dumbledore had finally come to his senses and was going to fire him. He deserved it. They’d talked about the eventuality of him having to miss classes because of the full moon, but he’d never imagined it’d be like this. If he could only tell him about Sirius, then at least he’d leave Hogwarts with a clean conscience.

“Come in,” he croaked, not even able to get up to receive him.

Dumbledore entered the room with his usual grace and peaceful smile. “Dear Remus, you look ghastly. Was the full moon especially rough on you this month?”

“A bit, I’m having trouble getting back on my feet this time,” he said, getting on a seating position. It wouldn’t do to welcome the Headmaster lying in bed, no matter how much his body protested at the movement.

“I can see that,” said Dumbledore. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him in a way that made Remus feel like he knew exactly what he was thinking. “Though I can’t help but wonder if there are other factors that should be taken into account to explain your deteriorated condition.”

Remus opened and closed his mouth several times, but couldn’t think of a single way to respond.

“Do you mind if I take a guess?” Dumbledore asked kindly. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I think all this business with Sirius Black has taken a toll on you, Remus.”

Remus shook his head so violently he ended up feeling dizzy. “It isn’t that, professor! You said it yourself, the full moon was tough on me, that’s all…” 

Predictively, Dumbledore wasn’t fooled by his feeble excuses. “There is no greater treason than that which comes from a friend, and that is not a wound easily healed. Your past has deep effects on you still, Remus, and understandably so; you’ve been through too much for such a young man.”

“We’ve all been through a lot,” Remus said in a whisper. “Anyone who survived the Dark Days has seen too much.”

“But you’ve been through that, plus all the challenges that come with being a werewolf, and still managed to be an outstanding man.” The Headmaster stood up, walked to the nearest window, and looked outside to the grounds. “I know Sirius Black was more than a friend to you, and that only adds to the pain of his betrayal. It’s okay if you feel too much sometimes. And I came here to let you know that, as long as you’re here at Hogwarts, you can take all the time that you need.”

Remus buried his face in his hands so Dumbledore wouldn’t see him crying. He didn’t deserve this. 

“The other teachers have been worried about you, and I know for a fact the students have been asking when you’re coming back,” he said, turning to look at him again. “However, I think you should take some time to yourself. Why don’t you have the week off? You can come back on Monday, when everything’s more settled.”

He tried to refuse, shaking the tears away, but Dumbledore wouldn’t listen. In the end, Remus accepted reluctantly, feeling extremely grateful on the inside. Even if it had hurt his pride, Dumbledore’s words made him feel less alone.

* * *

Remus returned to his duties Monday morning, starting with an early class with his seventh years. Everyone welcomed him warmly, from the students to the other teachers—all of them had some kind words for him, with the notable exception of Snape. The Potion's Master was also in the staff room when he arrived. When he saw Remus, he just nodded in greeting and then pointed to an enormous pile of papers laying on one of the desks.

“These are all the essays awaiting grading,” he said with a mocking smirk, and then disappeared without another word.

McGonagall patted him on the back, which didn't help the pile feel smaller. It did make him feel a little better, though. Immediately after she put the kettle on and starting preparing his tea—she already new exactly how he took it. Professor McGonagall had been a great solace; she'd visited him two times while he was convalescing, to bring him biscuits and have a cuppa. Nonetheless, she still took the time to tell him she’d missed having someone who made her feel less guilty about her sugar intake. Remus felt touched.

They spent some time talking, sitting on the staff room's battered chairs, and were promptly joined by professor Flitwick. 

“How did the Quidditch match go? I can’t imagine it was very pleasant to watch, with the storm that was raging that day,” Remus said, suddenly remembering. The teachers had been raving the whole month about Gryffindor's chances of winning the cup that year.

McGonagall and Flitwick exchanged a glance.

“We lost against Hufflepuff, but that’s not the worst of it,” McGonagall said, her face pained. “The Dementors entered the stadium in the middle of the game.”

Remus couldn’t help but gasp, looking at them in disbelief. “What happened?”

“Apparently, they sensed the excitement and couldn’t help themselves,” answered Flitwick, his voice an octave higher than usual due to indignation. “You should’ve seen Dumbledore, he was livid. This was exactly why he told the Ministry he didn’t want the Dementors roaming the grounds.”

“Was someone hurt?” Remus asked.

“Harry Potter fell from his broom and would’ve died if the Headmaster hadn’t acted so quickly,” McGonagall replied with a grim expression. Remus’ stomach lurched with fear, but before his voice could betray his panic, the professor continued. “He’s okay, I think Poppy should release him today. But he gave us a mighty fright.”

“That poor boy, he has the worst luck,” said Flitwick with a sigh. “His broomstick flew away after his fall and was completely destroyed by the Whomping Willow. I went to collect the pieces myself. It was truly a mess.”

“And it was such a good broom, too. I bought it on his first year, when he joined the team,” added McGonagall. “A pity, but nothing can be done.”

“At least nothing too serious happened to him,” said Remus. He sounded unconvinced though. He couldn’t help but feel at least partly responsible for the Whomping Willow’s actions—after all, he'd been the reason it had been planted in the first place.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the bell. With hasty goodbyes, the teachers parted ways towards their respective classes. Even though the conversation with his colleagues had only brought more bad news, it felt good to come back to his routine. Dumbledore had been right, he felt much better after his time alone, ready to tackle life again. It had helped him rest and, most importantly, think. Apparently, he’d harboured a mess of repressed feelings regarding Sirius—which explained the constant dreaming that had culminated on the dreaded mental break down after his transformation. Sirius’ time in prison had meant Remus hadn’t had to confront the reality of his feelings for him, just bury them and pretend they’d never existed. But once he was out of the magical prison that contained him, Remus had no choice in the matter. His ex-best friend and teenage crush was a criminal who’d betrayed them, had two of the four Marauders killed, and was now after his godson. It wasn’t easy to process, but at least Remus was acknowledging he had a problem.

He'd also decided to be less hard on himself. It was true he hadn’t told Dumbledore about the fact that Sirius was capable of transforming into a dog, but maybe it wasn’t even that relevant? Sirius had been a servant of Voldemort after all, he’d probably learnt about the Dark Arts from him. There was nothing that indicated that Sirius had taken advantage of his dog form to enter the castle, and hadn’t the Fat Lady said he’d threatened her with a knife? He’d been human then. Maybe his ability to transform into a dog helped him to stay hidden, but not much more. 

Determined to continue with his life, Remus threw himself into work. Most of his students told him how much they’d missed him, which he appreciated greatly and motivated him to no end. He had an especially soft spot for the third years, who welcomed him with unconcealed joy. Their warm words were somewhat dampened by the knowledge that Snape had used his time as a substitute teacher to lecture them about werewolves. Thankfully, from the student’s harsh criticisms about the other man’s teaching methods and celebration of Remus’ return, he was sure they didn’t suspect a thing. Still, all it took was for a single kid to put two and two together, tell one of their classmates, and eventually the whole school would know. Then it was over for him.

But it was no use thinking like that, there was nothing he could do about it, could he? So he banished those thoughts from his head and focused on using whatever time he had left as a teacher the best that he could.

Throughout that first class, his gaze kept falling on Harry. He looked a little battered, but at least he was healthy and able to attend his lessons. At the same time, he noticed a stiffness in his posture, a peculiar glint in the boy’s eyes that made him wonder what was going on in his head. When the bell rang, he beckoned him over, feeling the need to talk to him and see for himself if he was really okay. However, the conversation soon gave an unexpected turn.

They were talking about the Dementors, when Harry said something that chilled him to the bone.

“When there is one near me… I hear the moment Voldemort killed my mother.”

The image of Lily’s young face appeared in his mind, accompanied with the pang he felt in his chest every time he thought of her death. For a second, he experienced the need to touch Harry’s arm, to show him he cared, but thought better of it. It wasn’t his place, he reminded himself.

There was a silence that Remus felt incapable of breaking. Fortunately, Harry filled it by asking why the Dementors went to the game. Remus hated to even think about the creatures. Nevertheless, Harry deserved to have his questions answered, so he explained things to him as best as he could. The conversation seemed to be on track again, and then Harry asked about Azkaban and Sirius. 

“But Sirius Black escaped. He escaped…”

Remus felt his face contort at the mention of Sirius and, without thinking, he threw his suitcase to the ground so Harry didn’t see his discomfort. Hearing Sirius’ name coming from his mouth… It was too much for Remus’ still fragile heart.

“Yes,” he said rising after he’d composed himself. “Black must’ve found a way to face them. I would not have thought it possible… In theory, Dementors take away a wizard’s powers if they stay with him enough time.”

“You drove away that Dementor in the train,” Harry said suddenly.

When Remus explained there were certain defences against them, Harry immediately asked if he could teach him. At first, Remus was reticent. It was very advanced form of magic and his mental state wasn’t one adequate to face any Dementor. But he wouldn’t be the one making a Patronus, was he?He’d just need to show Harry how to do it… And if Harry managed to produce one, it’d be an invaluable tool in his future; it'd help him protect himself and to communicate quickly with others if he needed to. Hadn’t he sworn to try and keep Harry safe? And what better way to do it than giving him the tools to defend himself? Maybe he wasn’t brave enough to do what was necessary for Dumbledore to stop Sirius, but he could help Harry’s chances as a wizard.

“All right, fine. I’ll try to help you. But I’m afraid I won’t be able until next trimester. I have a lot to do before the break. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

Harry left with a hopeful smile on his face. For the first time in a long while, Remus felt truly hopeful too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you the fic would be angsty. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are highly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, humour and angst, my favorite combination :)

Christmas had been hard. It coincided with the full moon, so he’d had to spend Christmas Eve alone in his room. It'd been extremely tiring, but at least he didn’t suffer another mental breakdown this time. Remus was grateful he’d got to spend the rest of the break catching up on work and not contemplating his empty existence again. Most importantly, he hadn't been alone; a lot of the other teachers didn’t have a family to go to either, so they spent Christmas at Hogwarts. Most of them passed the time lounging in the staff room, either working or merely chatting. He got to spend several extremely nice evenings with professor McGonagall and Flitwick, talking while enjoying a cup of tea or some of McGonagall’s biscuits. By the time classes started again, Remus felt fully prepared to face the new term.

The new trimester also meant the beginning of his private lessons with Harry. He’d spent some time figuring out the logistics of the whole affair during the break—he couldn’t possibly take a Dementor into the castle, so he needed to find an alternative. Luckily, the idea for the perfect solution came to him after a chance encounter with professor Sprout.

It was the first day of the new year and Remus had woken up early. Unable to go back to sleep, he decided to head to the teacher’s lounge, to finish the last remaining essays he needed to grade before becoming a free man at last. After some time of intense work, the door opened, making Remus jump.

“Sorry for startling you, Remus,” said professor Sprout apologetically. “Thank Merlin you’re here, though. I just came up for one of my spare cloaks and, well..." She hesitated. "Would you mind checking if there’s a Boggart in the wardrobe for me?”

Sprout’s face had attained a slight redness to it. She was a proud, independent women, able to deal with Venomous Tentacula without blinking. Neither during his years as a student nor teacher he’d ever seen her ask for help—which spoke of how much she must’ve hated Boggarts. Always the gentleman, he checked the wardrobe for her. Once he informed her it was empty, she thanked him, retrieved her cloak and quickly disappeared.

That incident, even though memorable on its own, had sparked something in Remus’ mind. It jogged his memory, helping him remember an exchange he’d had with Harry on Halloween. They’d been talking about the form his Boggart would’ve taken, and he’d said: “At first I thought of Voldemort, but then I remembered the Dementors.”

If they were Harry’s greatest fear, that meant they wouldn’t need the real thing after all…

Once he was done with his overdue work, Remus started to spend his free time roaming the castle in search of a Boggart. The place was almost deserted, as most students had decided to spend the Winter Break with their family, so he could explore at his leisure. This was a good thing given that, no matter how much the teachers complained about annoying Boggarts appearing out of nowhere, now that he was actually looking for one there were none in sight.

As the days passed, not only had he been unable to find any of the creatures, but he’d also acquired a shadow: Mrs. Norris. The cat had started following him on the second day of his search; apparently, after all these years, Filch still remembered the Marauder’s shenanigans and didn’t trust Remus one bit. And he couldn’t really blame him–James and Sirius had been the bane of poor Filch’s existence. As a teacher, it wasn’t proper for the caretaker to have him followed, but Remus let it pass. He reckoned he deserved some of the man’s distrust.

Nonetheless, after several days of searching and no results, he got tired of wandering aimlessly. The thought of giving up became more and more appealing and he was about to give into it, when a bout of inspiration struck him again.

He was turning a corner when he saw Mrs. Norris familiar form. At first, he was annoyed, but then he started thinking about her owner. Apart from having his cat follow him around, Remus hadn't had much contact with the caretaker. As much as Filch hated him, it wasn’t like Remus was a fan of him either, so he’d been happy to avoid him. However, Filch, though unpleasant, was said to be the person who knew the most about castle. Well, after the Marauders, of course–though Remus had to admit he was a little rusty himself. Maybe, given that his cat kept following him, he could pay him a visit and return her? And perhaps also harness the opportunity to ask him a few questions. 

By the time he reached the caretaker’s office, the man in question was already waiting for him outside his office. Just another thing that solidified James’ theory that Filch and Mrs. Norris were telepathically linked.

“What have you been doing, Mr. Lupin, wandering the castle?” he greeted, cutting right through the chase.

“Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Filch,” Remus said graciously. “Funny you should ask, because I’ve come here to ask for your assistance.” Filch eyed him suspiciously, but Remus continued, undeterred. “You see, I need a Boggart for one of my classes, but I haven’t had any luck locating one…”

“And you thought I could help? I have a lot of things to do, especially when the students come back.” He said the last part with disgust, like he couldn’t stand the idea of the school full of kids.

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream to interfere with your duties,” Remus interjected, trying to look sincere. He seemed to manage it, because Filch didn’t interrupt him this time. “Just, if you happen to find one, maybe you could notify me?”

After some grumbling, Filch, having been placated by Remus’ deferential attitude, ended up agreeing. Their meeting went better than he could’ve ever imagined. Not only did Mrs. Norris stop following him; a few days later, the caretaker approached him when he was leaving the Great Hall after breakfast. He’d found a Boggart.

“The little bugger infiltrated my office during the night,” he explained, as they went up the stairs together. “I went to check one of my drawers and…” He stopped abruptly, probably reticent to share his greatest fear with Remus.

“Do you have something where I can trap it?” Remus asked to change the subject. “An old trunk or box you can lend me?”

Filch assured him he did. Once they arrived at the office, he pointed Remus to a drawer that read: "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous", while he rummaged for something to hold the creature in. The Boggart must’ve rattled him more than he was willing to admit, because as soon as he found a battered trunk, he retreated to the exit.

Facing a Boggart was no challenge for Remus, who confronted it with practiced ease and trapped it in a matter of minutes. When he was done though, he couldn’t help taking a look into the mysterious drawer. What was inside it that had made Filch label it so ominously? To his disappointment, it was completely empty. Before he could ask about it, Filch spoke again.

“That’s it?” he asked, still hovering by the door.

“That’s it,” said Remus with a smile. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Filch. And don’t doubt on contacting me next time you have a problem with a Boggart.”

And that was how Remus had managed to find a way for Harry to practice the Patronus Charm.

On the second week of January, he told the boy to meet him in the empty History of Magic classroom. After the school day was finished, Remus collected the trunk containing the Boggart from his room and walked hurriedly through the hallways. He felt excited about the prospect of teaching Harry such an advanced spell, but also afraid of the effects the Boggart might have on him. Would he hear Lily’s voice once more? Remus didn’t know if he could take the sight of Harry’s face while he talked about his mother again.

Harry was already there when he got to the classroom, looking eager and nervous at the same time. They started with the basics. Remus taught him how the spell worked, then Harry practiced it a few times, and finally he set the Boggart free. Unfortunately, his fears had been founded; as soon as the false Dementor started towards Harry, he fainted, hitting the floor before Remus could catch him.

Remus forced the Boggart into the trunk again before hurrying towards the unconscious boy, calling his name. Thank Merlin Harry opened his eyes after only a few seconds of unconsciousness.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, getting up.

“Are you alright?”

Harry nodded, a dazed expression on his face. Remus helped him up and immediately took out one of the chocolate frogs he’d put in his pocket, having suspected they’d be in need of some chocolate after the lesson. At the boy’s disappointed look, Remys told him not to worry, that he hadn’t expected him to get it on the first try. However, Harry wasn’t listening.

“It’s getting worse,” Harry muttered distractedly, taking a bite from the frog. “This time I heard her voice even louder. And him… Voldemort…”

Remus tried to school his features, but wasn’t sure if he managed it. “Harry, if you don’t want to continue, I’ll completely understand…”

No, Harry wouldn’t hear a word of giving up. He was determined to persist; even though he’d probably faint again, despite his teacher’s worry, he insisted on giving it another go.

The second attempt was worse.

Remus was able to stop Harry’s fall this time, but it took much longer for him to wake up again. Once a minute had passed and the boy’s lids kept shut, he resorted to slapping him on the cheeks.

“Harry! Harry, wake up…”

Green eyes opened with a start. “I heard my father,” he said in a broken voice. Sweat mixed with tears stained his young face. “It’s the first time I’ve heard him. He wanted to face Voldemort to give my mother time to escape…”

It was too much for Remus. He stood up quickly and turned around, so Harry wouldn’t see him battling his own tears. Of course James had decided to face Voldemort alone, the idiot. Always a Gryffindor through and through. Oh, how he missed him.

“You heard James?” he said, trying to control the tremble in his voice.

“Yes…” After a pause, where he seemed to be processing his words, Harry continued. “Why? You didn’t know my father, did you?”

Remus finally turned around, now a bit more composed. Harry was staring at him with a curious expression. For some reason, looking into those green eyes, he didn’t feel capable of telling him the whole truth. How his father had been one of his best friends, how Remus had seen Harry as a baby and even sent him a gift for his first birthday. How he would have died for James Potter, but never got the chance.

“I… knew him, yes,” he replied. “We were friends at Hogwarts.”

He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he tried to convince Harry they should stop with the lesson, without avail. The boy was determined to keep trying. So they gave it another go. Once again, cold enveloped the room, the lights flickered, and Remus had to concentrate so he wouldn’t let the bad thoughts distract him from his student. This time, however, Harry managed to conjure a silver shadow that stayed between him and the Dementor. Remus hadn’t felt this proud in years.

After a few seconds, he noticed how Harry’s legs started to tremble. With a quick “ _Riddikulus_!” he put himself in front of the false Dementor, leaving the poor boy free to drop over a chair. He managed to force the Boggart into the trunk again. When he was done, he turned towards Harry to congratulate him.

“Can we try again? Just one more time,” he begged, weakly.

This time, Remus didn’t let him swerve him. He refused emphatically and, instead, took some more chocolate and handed it to him. Then, Remus started extinguishing the lights that had turned on again with the Dementor’s disappearance.

“Professor Lupin?” Harry asked, still seated eating his chocolate. “If you knew my father, you probably knew Sirius Black…”

Remus felt a cold fear seize his whole body, as if the Dementor hadn’t ever left. He turned around quickly. “What makes you think that?” he asked, more forcefully than he intended. Had somebody told him something? Was this common knowledge now? Did somebody suspect he was helping Sirius?

“Nothing,” he said, probably sensing his agitation. “I mean… I found out that they were friends at Hogwarts.”

His words allowed Remus to breathe easy again. He didn’t know. “Yes, I knew him. Or I thought I knew him,” was the only thing he was able to say. He didn’t trust himself to talk more about the subject, so he cut their conversation short. “You better go, Harry. It’s getting late.”

Once Harry had left the classroom, Remus collapsed on a chair. He had to get a grip on himself. More than ten years had passed, and he still couldn’t talk about his past. Merlin's beard, he couldn't even keep it together in front of a student! At the mere mention of one of the Marauder’s names, it was as if his whole body went in fight or flight mode. He kept thinking he was getting better, but it was moments like this that made him wonder if he’d ever get over everything that had happened. Maybe he’d die of all age, alone and still thinking about the friends he’d lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As chocolate helps after facing a Dementor, reviews help me keep writing. Any comments are appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch and angst, the best combination there is.
> 
> Remus is VERY tired, please just let him take a nap.

January turned into February almost seamlessly. Between his classes and the private lessons with Harry, Remus managed to keep his mind occupied. He loved teaching and, for the first time in a long time, he felt content. Yes, he still suffered a pang of anxiety every time he saw Sirius’ face on the paper, but everyone had their issues. It was just that his involved having feelings for a mad convict.

Even though Harry was one of his best third year students and had made steady progress throughout the year, he wasn’t making much headway regarding his Patronus. Although he didn’t faint anymore and was able to conjure a silver cloud that kept the Dementor at bay, it cost all of his strength. Remus kept telling him that what he’d already accomplished was astonishing for a wizard his age, but it didn’t seem to be enough for him. The boy was frustrated, and it showed. It made Remus wonder if he’d made the right decision when he accepted to teach him; maybe by agreeing, he’d made Harry have too high expectations on himself.

Anyways, the boy’s irritation didn’t stem only from their lessons. Professor McGonagall told Remus that Harry had received a mysterious broomstick for Christmas. Fearing it could be enchanted, she’d confiscated it, to Harry’s abject horror. Just like his father, Harry was completely mad about Quidditch, and the loss of the broom had been too much for his spirits.

That was why, after another session in which Harry wasn’t able to conjure a full Patronus, Remus took pity on him. Once the Boggart was put away safely inside its trunk, he retrieved two butterbeer bottles from his personal stash. He thought it’d be nice to have some together, given that Harry hadn’t been able to go Hogsmade. The boy’s reaction, however, made him wary.

“Butterbeer! Yes, I love it.” His face lit up until he saw Remus’ curious expression. He quickly added, “Well… Ron and Hermione brought me some from Hogsmade.”

Remus wouldn’t had thought much of his words if it weren’t for Harry’s guilty expression. He didn’t know what was going on, but Harry was definitely doing something he shouldn’t. Could it be he was sneaking into Hogsmade? He quickly discarded the thought; with all the new measures in place, it'd be impossible. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep a close eye on him.

Harry seemed relieved when Remus changed the subject and, instead, made a toast for Gryffindor’s victory in their next match. They drank in silence, until Harry asked a question that made Remus wish he hadn’t been so lenient in dropping his suspicions.

“What’s underneath a Dementor’s hood?” 

It wasn’t something he liked to think about, ever. But especially not that day, after what he’d read on the paper.

That morning’s Prophet had a whole section dedicated to the manhunt for Sirius. That in itself wasn’t very surprising—Remus would’ve been more shocked if they hadn’t mentioned him at all. Anyhow, after a particularly harsh paragraph about the Ministry’s failure to apprehend him, there was a sentence that made Remus want to throw up his breakfast: “The Ministry has issued a statement, revealing that they’ve given permission to the Dementors to kiss Black upon finding him.”

For some reason, Remus felt compelled to tell Harry. He didn’t know what he intended by it, but some part of him needed to know what he thought of all this. After all, as the son of Lily and James he’d been the one who’d lost the most because of Sirius’ actions.

Harry’s reaction to the news, however, was almost worse than the news itself.

“He deserves it,” he said, his face dark and full of such hate, that Remus didn’t know what to make of it.

“That’s what you think?” Remus said with forced casualness. As if they weren’t talking about the person who was the cause of most of his sleepless nights. “Do you really think he deserves that?”

“Yes. For various reasons.” His words were sharp, final.

Remus didn’t know how to answer.

The boy left shortly after that, but Remus couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation. He was sure Harry knew more than he led on. Somehow, he must’ve found out what Sirius had done; it was the only thing that explained the intense emotion in his eyes. Harry had learned about Sirius’ betrayal and, at thirteen, concluded that he deserved to lose his soul. Remus, on the other hand, had had more than ten years to digest that information, and he still couldn’t bear the thought.

* * *

The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was the first he’d seen in years. Remus liked the sport, though he wasn’t such a fan that he’d felt compelled to sacrifice some of his meagre salary to go watch it. Since he’d arrived at Hogwarts, he’d been looking forward to seeing his students play, but hadn’t been able to attend the previous matches due to his frail state after the full moon and the amount of work he had to do. So, when Professor McGonagall asked him at breakfast if he was going to go watch the game, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

The day was perfect for being outside. Though chilly, the fresh air invigorated Remus, and the weak rays of the winter sun felt amazing on his skin. McGonagall walked by his side to the Quidditch pitch, draped in a Gryffindor scarf, matching gloves, and a red hat.

“You went all out with the House Spirit, I see,” Remus couldn’t help saying in a teasing tone.

“I’m the Head of House, it’s my duty,” she replied with dignity. “And this is our last chance to have a shot at the Quidditch Cup, so I intend to show my full support. You should too, you know.”

“I’m a teacher! I’m supposed to be impartial.”

McGonagall huffed, but didn’t respond. Remus thought she’d dropped the subject, until they took their place in the stands and she removed her scarf. Without saying a word, McGonagall wrapped it around Remus' neck in a motherly fashion. He was so surprised, he only managed to look at her in absolute bewilderment.

“What? Now you won’t be getting a cold. And I’ll be damned if one of my best former students doesn’t show a little bit of House pride.” She was frowning and talked in a severe manner, which contrasted with the gentleness of her actions.

“There goes my integrity, then,” he said, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. For all she loved to act strict, McGonagall was a regular softie.

The woman ignored him, deciding instead to rave about Harry’s recently returned Firebolt. “Between that broomstick and the boy’s talent, there’s no way we’re losing today,” she said excitedly.

She described the broom’s qualities for a while, leaving Remus completely amazed; professor McGonagall really knew her stuff. Then, she continued talking about a wager she had with professor Flitwick, until a fifth year boy, Lee Jordan, started to head their way. As soon as Lee sat next to them, McGonagall returned to her subdued and dignified countenance.

“Mr. Jordan, I hope you behave today,” she said as way of greeting.

The boy put a hand against his chest, feigning outrage. “When have I been anything but the model commentator, professor?”

By McGonagall’s unamused expression, Remus could imagine the answer.

Attending the game was the most fun he’d had in a while. Between the crowd’s excitement and the player’s prowess, Remus was having a blast. The best part was McGonagall’s indignant screams at Lee Jordan, who couldn’t stop praising the Firebolt—which was especially funny, given that Remus had heard her utter the exact words just a few minutes before.

Watching Harry fly made him feel like he’d gone back in time. He looked so at ease in the sky that, if you let go of the fact there was no Quaffle between his hands, it was easy to imagine he was James instead. A mix of sadness and joy assaulted Remus heart; his chest felt like it was going to explode from the nostalgia. He was so deep inside his own head, he actually jumped as the stands erupted when Harry dived, apparently having seen the snitch. Blinking rapidly to banish the tears that had started to prickle his eyes, Remus focused his attention on the game again.

It was immediately apparent Harry’s manoeuvre had been a feint; he turned his broom resolutely upwards and started zooming up, his hand reaching for a golden dot a few meters ahead. And then, there was a scream.

Three hooded figures had entered the pitch. Remus, his stomach doing a flip, dug his fingernails on his palm. Through the corner of his eye, he saw McGonagall stand up abruptly, clutching her hands against her chest. Dementors in the Quiddicth pitch again? Dumbledore must be furious. At least those were Remus’ first thoughts, until he looked towards the Headmaster and saw him smiling. Before he could even process what was happening, Harry took out his wand and a silver shadow burst towards the shadows. It was a stag. A perfectly formed Patronus.

Remus felt a surge of pride, even when the hooded figures fell in a tangle of robes, demonstrating they weren’t actual Dementors. After weeks of practicing, Harry had managed a feat that many grown wizards weren’t able to accomplish. And he, Remus, had been the one to teach him.

Harry captured the snitch and the crowd exploded in cheers. The Gryffindors jumped and shouted, and next to him, McGonagall started descending the stairs that led to the pitch. Without wasting time, he followed, apologizing as they made their way through the mass of people. He couldn’t see the professor’s face, although he didn’t really need to; her hurried step and the tense posture of her shoulders revealed unmistakable fury. They arrived at the place where the hooded figures lay sprawled on the ground in a matter of seconds, and there they encountered four Slytherin students battling to get out of their robes.

Remus had to put a hand over his mouth to avoid a laugh escaping. As soon as they were within earshot, McGonagall started shouting at the Slytherins indignantly. Remus caught words such as “Outrageous trick” and “Ignoble sabotage!”. She was absolutely right, but he couldn’t help but marvel at their ingenuity; one of them, Draco Malfoy, had even climbed on the shoulders of one of the other boys to achieve the desired height. This had required planning and effort.

Given that McGonagall would be screaming at them for a while, he went to look for Harry and found him surrounded by a throng of friends. It seemed impossible for Harry to look happier, until Remus congratulated him and showed him the fake Dementors; the grin on his face was so luminous, Remus was convinced it’d have been capable of powering a small city.

After Harry left with his friends and McGonagall finished with the Slytherins, Hagrid approached them. McGonagall had moved on to talk to professor Dumbledore, still clearly annoyed, but when Hagrid suggested they should come over to his hut for celebratory drinks, any trace of anger evaporated from her expression. That was how Remus ended up drinking malt whiskey in Hagrid’s cabin, in company of two of the people he’d most admired in his Hogwarts days. It seemed a bit surreal if he was being honest—especially when Dumbledore and Hagrid started singing loudly after their third glass.

When Remus returned to his room, slightly dazed from the liquor, he was the happiest he’d been in a while. He’d watched his first Quidditch match in years, seen Harry fly _and_ conjure a full-bodied Patronus, and had enjoyed himself immensely. It felt nice, the buzz of alcohol in his veins and that floaty sensation, which made him forget there was anything to worry about. Without even bothering to get out of his robes, he collapsed onto his bed, tired but content.

Of course, Remus Lupin and happiness were two concepts that didn’t mix well. Indeed, that was the last happy moment he had in a great while. It was his fault, really, he shouldn’t have lowered his guard. He should’ve known by know that good things never lasted.

After midnight, he was awoken by a banging on the door. With a start, Remus got up unsteadily, having to hold himself against the wall for a few seconds before being able to answer the door. He opened it, clothes in disarray and hair sticking out, to find a scowling Snape waiting for him.

“Your dear friend Black has been raking havoc again,” he said as way of greeting, his voice full of venom. When Remus just stared at him, trying to process his words, Snape let out a disdainful huff. “Black entered Gryffindor Tower and almost killed a student this time. The Headmaster wants us to search the castle.”

“Is anyone hurt?” he asked immediately, rubbing his face to get the sleep out of his eyes.

“No, but they may be if we don’t find Black,” Snape replied sharply.

“I’ll go get my wand.”

Once Remus had splashed some water on his face and recovered his wand from where he’d left it during his tipsy stumble towards the bed, he went outside to meet a very grumpy Snape. They started patrolling the castle together, searching for any sign of Sirius. After some prodding from Remus, Snape told him what had happened at Gryffindor tower with as few words as possible. As soon as he finished the tale, he fell completely silent and proceeded to ignore him while they searched.

This caused Remus to be left alone with his thoughts, which, given the circumstances, wasn’t good at all.

His mind kept circling around how close Sirius had been to killing Harry. Why would he run away after being found out by a student instead of killing everyone there? It hadn’t been a problem when he killed all those muggles twelve years ago, so had he suddenly developed a conscience? It was another piece in the frustrating mystery that was Sirius Black. And if he was being honest, Remus was sick of it. Sick of thinking nonstop about him, when he clearly didn’t deserve it.

There was also the question about how he’d entered the castle again. Probably the same way he’d gone past the Dementors in Azkaban, but what was he doing, exactly? Did it have to do with him being an Animagus? It couldn’t be, right? He must’ve been using some form of Dark Magic. He held on to that thought, the only thing standing between him and falling down the chasm of his guilt.

From time to time, they came across another teacher, every one of them sporting a grim expression. Their meetings took him out of his head for a while, but as soon as they were gone Remus felt himself overthinking again. Every once in a while, Snape gave him a disgusted look, like he couldn’t believe he was stuck with him, a werewolf and a traitor. And maybe his reasoning was wrong, fueled by prejudice and hate, but his conclusion wasn’t. It was true Remus had betrayed Dumbledore and, one way or another, everything that had been happening could be traced back to him. He felt like he was going insane.

The need to get away from everything to process what was happening threatened to overwhelm him. So, when it became apparent that there was no way Sirius remained inside the castle, Remus suggested they split up to cover more ground. Maybe with some alone time he could calm down enough to start thinking clearly again. Perhaps he could sneak into the grounds and have some fresh air to help abate this wave of self-loathing. Walking alone at night always helped when he was a student, especially if he could sneak into the Astronomy Tower to look at the sky for a while. The vastness of space had a calming quality that he longed for.

But Snape refused outright. “I don’t trust you one bit, Lupin, so don’t even think about getting out of my sight,” he growled.

After an hour of combing through the hallways and looking behind tapestries, they were interrupted by a silvery light. It was a Patronus in the shape of a phoenix. Dumbledore’s voice resonated through it, ordering everyone to report to the Great Hall.

Remus and Snape, who hadn’t said a word to one another since the latter had refused to let him patrol on his own, just looked somberly at each other and complied. Remus didn’t know if he was relieved or not; any excuse to get away from Snape was welcome, yet he dreaded meeting the others and have any of them putting their suspicions on him.

When they reached the first floor, they found the doors of the Great Hall open and all of the teachers gathered at its entrance.

“Nothing?” McGonagall asked when she saw them arrive, looking even paler than usual. When they shook their head, her face wrinkled with worry. She was wearing a checkered sleeping robe and fluffy red slippers, which would’ve made Remus laugh if the situation weren’t so dire.

“We’re all here? Good,” Dumbledore’s voice boomed from the opposite side of the group. All the teachers formed a disarrayed circle around him, looking expectant. “Does anyone have anything to report? Anything out of the ordinary?” There was silence, only broken by a few muttered negatives. “Well, that’s certainly not good. I don’t have to tell you that today’s events are of the utmost gravity. More than one student could’ve been seriously hurt today, yet we were lucky. I expect all of you to be on the alert and report any suspicious behavior straight to me. Any questions?”

“Surely we will have to take some new security measures,” professor Flitwick said. “I could enchant the main doors to recognize Black’s face.”

There was a grumble of agreement, which prompted a few more suggestions. They agreed that all the teachers should take turns patrolling the hallways at night and no student should leave the castle on their own until Sirius Black was apprehended. Dumbledore even approved Filch’s idea of boarding up any cracks on the walls.

“Anything else?” the Headmaster asked.

There was silence. Remus, who at this point felt exhausted, sensed the meeting was finally coming to an end and was ready to go back to bed. And then Snape opened his mouth. “Given that this is the second time we have a break-in, professor, I think we should consider the option that Black had some assistance.” Snape was addressing Dumbledore, but his eyes were fixed on Remus.

All the teachers started talking at the same time, their voices resonating through the Hall in a chaotic chorus. Still, Remus’ eyes didn’t leave the Potion Master’s. He felt such an intense wave of hate that, if he’d been a little bit more impulsive, he’d have probably lunged towards Snape and broken his already crooked nose.

“We’ve talked about this, Severus, but I’ll repeat it for the whole faculty to hear,” Dumbledore’s eyes blazed dangerously and, for a moment, Remus felt genuinely scared of the man. “Even though I hope you keep your eyes open for anything suspicious, there’s no need for mistrust. I have full confidence in the loyalty of the whole staff; all of you have demonstrated your reliability and I hope that is common knowledge. I won’t tolerate any accusations unless there’s compelling evidence to be brought forwards, are we clear? Marvelous. Now everyone off to bed, all of us have to work tomorrow.”

They disbanded, all heading to their respective rooms. Avoiding everyone’s gaze, Remus slipped upstairs as quickly as he could. His thoughts were even more frantic than before. Had the other teachers noticed Snape was referring to him? Did they suspect him too? Although he felt as if he’d aged ten years in a single night, it was a really long time before Remus could sleep.

Despite Snape’s words, nobody seemed to think Remus had anything to do with last night’s events. Nobody confronted him nor acted strangely around him. Maybe it was that everyone was too busy putting the new security measure in place to worry about it; nonetheless, Remus was grateful.

With the whole staff thrown into a frenzy, Remus included, there was no time for him to think about his growing guilt. Between his classes and night patrols, Remus felt completely drained. He still tried to keep an eye on Harry, but without their private lessons and the boy’s constant Quidditch training, he barely managed to see him in class. 

That was, until the day of the Hogsmade visit scheduled for that month.

In theory, Remus should’ve been spending the afternoon preparing for next week’s classes. Sadly, the reality was quite different; the full moon was approaching and, despite his best efforts, his body felt so heavy he could barely keep his eyes open. He was trying very hard to focus on a text about manticores, when a crack in the fireplace almost made him jump out of his skin.

“Lupin!” shouted Snape’s distinct voice. “I need to talk to you.”

The man sounded angry. Rubbing his face to vanquish any remaining sleep, Remus got up and headed to the fireplace. He took a handful of Flu powder from a pot and threw it over the embers. Seconds later, he was in Snape’s office, standing before the man who’d summoned him and a surprised looking Harry Potter.

The presence of Harry didn’t bode well with Remus—it meant he’d have to be careful about how he talked to Snape. He brushed some ash from his robes, buying some time to compose himself.

“You called, Severus?” he finally greeted in a pleasant tone.

The other teacher pointed to a piece of old parchment laying on the table. Remus knew what it was even before reading the words displayed there. His heart started racing and any remains of sleepiness vanished, replaced by a cold shiver of panic. It was the Marauder’s Map. No matter that almost twenty years had passed since he’d seen it last, he’d spent so many hours poring over it he’d be able to recognize it anywhere. Dozens of thoughts bounced through his head, yet one prevailed over the others: _Don’t give anything away_.

“What do you think?” Snape asked, but Remus was too focused trying to get his feelings under control to answer immediately. He kept looking at the Map, pretending he was examining it, hoping he managed a neutral expression even when his mind was in a whirlwind.

Snape didn’t give up, though. “What do you think?” he repeated. “This parchment is clearly enchanted with Dark Magic. It’s your specialty, Lupin. Where do you think Potter got it?”

The last question was what brought Remus back to reality. Somehow, Snape suspected this had something to do with him. Maybe he recalled the Marauders running around carrying something similar in their school days, maybe he remembered the nicknames they gave each other, it didn’t matter. The fact was he needed to tread carefully or, not only did he risk being fired, he could also get Harry in big trouble.

Remus gave Harry a quick yet intense look, trying to tell him to shut up while he talked. Apparently, the boy got the idea because he kept quiet.

“Dark Magic?” Remus said calmly, finally looking at Snape. “Do you really think so, Severus? To me it just seems like a parchment that offends whoever tries to read it. Childish, but certainly not dangerous. I reckon Harry bought it in the joke shop.”

They’d used that excuse before, in their Hogwarts days, when Filch caught them with the Map on their final year. The caretaker had still confiscated it, but at least he hadn’t figured it out, or else he’d gone directly to Dumbledore. He still remembered how drunk they'd got that night, as they drowned the loss of their precious invention in firewhiskey.

However, Snape didn’t seem convinced. Moreover, he looked even more angry than before. “Really? Don’t you think it’s more plausible he got it from the _manufacturers_?”

Son of a Bludger. He knew. Remus forced a confused smile on his face. “You mean from Mr. Wormtail or any of the others?” He glanced at Harry’s puzzled face and suddenly had an idea. “Harry, do you know any of these gentlemen?”

As he’d predicted, Harry gave a quick negative. Feeling a wave of relief, Remus turned to Snape and told him he thought it was from Zonko’s. He hadn’t even finished the sentence, when Ron Weasley entered the office, completely out of breath. In between pants, he said he’d been the one to give the parchment to Harry and, therefore, solidified Remus’ version.

That was everything they needed.

Before Snape could say anything else, Remus took the Map and shepherded the two boys to the door. “Good, that clarifies it then! I’m taking it, if you don’t mind, Severus.” The other man seemed to mind quite a lot though. As a matter of fact, he looked absolutely livid. He didn’t have any proof of his suspicions, however, so Remus didn’t bother worrying too much about him. While they walked, he maintained his cheery demeanor until they were out of sight, out of the dungeons and into the Hall.

Immediately, Harry tried to explain himself, but Remus wouldn’t hear it. Actually, he didn’t remember being this angry in a long time. “I don’t want apologies,” he said in a low voice, after he made sure nobody was eavesdropping. “As it turns out, I know this Map was confiscated years ago by Mr. Filch.”

He was so mad he didn’t even try to hide that he knew everything. If there was something he needed Harry to take out of this experience was that this was unacceptable behavior. He couldn’t get out of the castle and put himself at risk when everybody was breaking their back to ensure his safety, and if he needed to reveal some part of his past for it, so be it.

Remus didn’t shout or punish them. Even when furious, his anger was cold and subdued, never loud or violent. He confiscated the Map, of course, but he believed the best way to make sure Harry didn’t get out of the castle wasn’t by force. Remus had also been a teenager, after all, and remembered the lure of anything forbidden all too well. Being on the receiving end of disappointment, however, _that_ was a great force indeed. He should know.

After everything that had happened, there was no chance of going back to work. Too much to think about. He tried though, because that was what he excelled at: trying. Again, and again. Even when he kept failing. Remus did give up this time though; he took the Map and whispered, “ _I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good._ ” And then he abandoned his office.

Thanks to the Map, he managed to avoid anyone on the way to his destination: The Astronomy Tower. The moment his lungs inhaled a mouthful of freezing air, it was like he was breathing properly for the first time in months. He lay there for hours, looking at the stars, just thinking, working through his thoughts and trying to untangle the mess of emotions that had become his permanent companions. When he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore and his nose started resembling an ice cube, he finally got up.

Remus was still a mess, a collage of contradictory feelings stitched together by pain, but after hours of reflexion he was sure of a few things. First, that he’d make sure that Harry didn’t leave the castle anymore, even if it meant spending every night until the end of term looking at the Map. Second, he was done feeling sorry about himself; he’d just accept the shitty hand he’d been dealt and keep going, unhappiness and all. And third, from that moment on and for all purposes, Sirius Black was as good as dead to him. As he should’ve been since he had betrayed them twelve years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this made sense. Next chapter we have Sirius' return! I'm equal parts excited and scared of what my brain will create (lol).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Remus has somewhat of a dissociative episode.

February turned into March, then into April. The Easter Holiday flew by, the Quidditch Tournament ended with Gryffindor’s victory and, suddenly, exam season was almost upon them. Sometimes it felt like time had passed in a flash; others, like the school year would never end. The whole student body had thrown themselves into their studies, and the teachers were no exception. There was always someone in the staff room, either grading papers, preparing a class or getting exams ready. Between his responsibilities and his afternoon tea with McGonagall, Remus didn’t have a moment to himself, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t even take nights off. Every day, after the sun had set, Remus took out the Marauders Map and checked on Harry. Thankfully, the boy hadn’t sneaked out of the castle since he’d saved him from Snape, but Remus hadn’t lowered his guard. He’d been serious when he promised himself he’d look after him.

Even though it was a stressing period due to the sheer number of things he needed to do before the school year was over, Remus had to admit he had a blast preparing the third year exam. He devised a magical obstacle course, where the students had to face a bunch of creatures they’d studied throughout the term. It hadn’t only been fun to assemble, he also loved seeing his students put everything they’d learned into practice. Watching them face Kappas and beat Boggarts, it reminded him how much he enjoyed being a teacher. It made him wonder if, maybe, he should stay another year. In case Dumbledore let him, of course. He’d done a fairly good job, hadn’t he? The students seemed to think so, at least. However, he tried to cast the thought away. Who knew if Dumbledore wanted an actually qualified professor for next term? It was better if he lowered his expectations.

Dark thoughts and all, Remus was feeling content after the last day of exams. Even his frail body, aching due to the proximity of the full moon, wasn’t able to dampen his mood. When he finished with the third years he even took a stroll through the grounds, taking in the Spring air and basking in the end of an eventful, but overall productive year. Then, he headed back to the castle to have a well-deserved rest before his night transformation. On his way to his rooms, however, he encountered McGonagall and Flitwick conversing in whispers. Curious, Remus couldn’t help but stop to greet them.

“Hagrid lost the appeal,” McGonagall informed him gloomily. “They’re executing the hippogriff at dusk.”

“How is Hagrid?” he asked immediately.

McGonagall just shook her head, while Flitwick answered with a pained expression. “He’s absolutely destroyed, the poor man. We saw him when he got the news and he could barely stand from the shock. Although he’s mostly resigned now.”

Remus felt himself deflate. After Hagrid’s hippogriff, Buckbeak, had attacked Draco Malfoy, Remus had talked with the gamekeeper a few times, trying to see if he could help in any way, but mostly acting as moral support. Hagrid was extremely attached to the beast and his sentence had been an awful blow to him. With all that’d been happening, Remus had completely forgotten about the appeal and couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about it. He should probably send a note giving his condolences. Hagrid had always been good to him and he certainly didn’t deserve what was happening.

With this in mind, he excused himself and continued the way towards his office, where he promptly proceeded to write to Hagrid. The message was short, but he hoped it’d be able to provide some comfort. Once Remus was finished though, something occurred to him. If this was common knowledge, he probably wasn’t the only one worried about Hagrid. Which meant there was a good chance Harry might go check on him.

Once the thought lodged itself in his brain, there was no way to banish it; knowing the boy, Remus was sure he would wander the grounds that night. Nonetheless, it wasn’t like he could stand guard outside Gryffindor Tower to stop him—they had security monsters anyways, even though they wouldn’t report much of a problem with James’ invisibility cloak. Resigned to his fate, Remus took out the Marauder’s Map, opened a chocolate bar, and braced himself for an afternoon of standing guard.

Just as he’d predicted, when the sun began to disappear he saw the three dots labelled Harry, Ron and Hermione exit Gryffindor Tower. Given that nobody stopped them as they wandered the halls, Remus concluded he'd been right in thinking Harry was using his father’s invisibility cloak. For a moment, he considered stopping them, but then remembered Hagrid was alone and about to watch one of his beloved creatures beheaded. There was no harm in letting the kids visit him if he kept an eye on the Map. In case anything happened, he’d be ready.

Although Remus had been theoretically prepared to step up in case of danger, he wasn’t _really_ expecting it. Nobody expects any peril to come from a warm day like that, so close to Summer and with the holidays just around the corner. Even though he was relaxed, enjoying the warm air that came in through the open window, if Sirius' name had popped up in the Map he would’ve been shocked, yes, but he liked to think he would’ve reacted quickly. After all, it was the reason he’d decided to keep an eye on Harry in the first place. But what where the chances of it happening?

Nothing could have prepared him for reading the name “Peter Pettigrew” in there.

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered Hagrid’s cabin without incident. As he waited for them to get out, Remus nibbled on a chocolate bar, thinking distractedly about his prospects for the Summer Holidays. Maybe he could try tutoring again, he pondered. He’d done it before, and now that he had experience as a Hogwarts professor there were more chances of people being interested… Absent-minded, he looked at the Map again and stood up so abruptly his chair fell over. Harry, Ron and Hermione had left Hagrid’s, but they weren’t alone. A small dot next to them read “Peter Pettigrew”.

It was impossible. The Map must’ve been broken—maybe the years since its creation had made it defective. However, even as those panicked thoughts crossed his mind, Remus knew there was no mistake; when creating it, he’d been the one to research the spell they cast, a powerful piece of magic that, when used correctly, didn’t wear off. And the Map had proven it was in mint condition time and time again. So, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him and there was no chance the Map was broken, that could only mean Peter was alive.

The implications of this made his head hurt. Remus righted the chair and sat down again, trying to rationalize what he was seeing, but couldn’t think of a plausible explanation. Except that everything he’d believed until that moment had been a lie. Remus’ stomach made a flip, a feeling between panic and hope embedded itself in his chest. He looked at the Map again and his breath caught in his throat. A new name had appeared: “Sirius Black”. And he wasn’t just watching, he’d approached the others and, suddenly, took the dots that read “Ronald Weasley” and “Peter Pettigrew” and pulled them into the Whomping Willow’s secret passage.

There was no time to try and make sense of the situation; Remus took his wand, put on his cloak and exited the room without a second thought. He walked through the hallways at a brisk pace, not even bothering to try and look less conspicuous. Who knew what was happening at the Shrieking Shack? When he finally arrived at the Whomping Willow what felt like an eternity later, he pressed the knot in the tree with a branch he found on the ground. As he did, a sense of déjà vu seized him.

Remus walked as fast as he could while bent down—the ceiling was even lower than he remembered. Stooped over, his gaze switching between the ground and the darkness ahead, Remus’ head worked a hundred miles an hour. Peter, his friend, the person he’d though dead for twelve years, was alive. The fact that Harry, Ron and Hermione had been walking with him meant he must’ve been in his rat form—he couldn’t imagine the three kids strolling through the grounds so calmly with a human Peter in tow. And how else could he have been inside Hagrid’s cabin? No, he was a rat, which meant he’d been hiding, but why? And what did this mean regarding Sirius’ crimes?

The Shrieking Shack was exactly as he remembered it, dark, gloomy and full of destroyed furniture. The only real difference was the amount of dust that covered everything, except for a path that went up the stairs that looked as if someone had been dragged through the floor. Carefully, wand raised, Remus started walking.

Immediately, there was a shout. “We’re up here! We’re up here! SIRIUS BLACK! HERE!” It was Hermione’s desperate voice.

Remus broke into a run, took the steps two by two and threw open the door in front of him with a flick of his wand. He entered another dusty room, where he encountered a scene so bizarre, he just stood there for a second. Sprawled over an old four poster bed, Ron Weasley was breathing raggedly, an expression of intense pain on his face, while Hermione Granger lay on the floor closer to Remus, bruises covering her face. Harry was standing on the other side, wearing a look of absolute hatred, pointing his wand straight into Sirius Black’s heart.

Still, what struck him most of all was Sirius himself. The man was sprawled at the bottom of the wall with a cat covering his chest. There was a bruise on his left eye, his nose was bleeding, and his once young and beautiful face was sunken, worse even than the way it looked on The Prophet. His formerly smooth hair was long and matted, reaching almost to his elbows, and he was so thin it seemed he was about to break. Nevertheless, as those gray eyes stared at him, Remus felt a pang of recognition in his chest. He wasn’t looking at Sirius Black, Death Eater, murderer and escaped convict; the man staring at him was his school friend, one of his best mates in the world. And in there, behind the pain, there was also the person he’d fallen in love with.

Without thinking, he yelled “Expelliarmus!” and, as wands flew towards him, he caught them all with his free hand. Then, he moved into the room, his gaze never leaving Sirius. “Where is he, Sirius?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded lower than normal, strained. Like every emotion he’d been bottling up was finally leaking.

Sirius just lay there, cat over his chest, expressionless. Remus couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but had an incline he was having just as much trouble processing everything as he did. After a few seconds of immovable silence, he raised his hand slowly, and pointed it to the other side of the room. Following the direction of Sirius’ finger, Remus eyes lay on Ron and then, on what he had between his hands: A brown rat. Peter.

“But then…” he started saying, staring intently, willing himself to understand. “Why hasn’t he shown himself before now? Unless…“

Everything clicked. And it hurt. A lot. The only explanation possible was that he’d had it all wrong, and Peter had been the secret keeper. _He_ was the one who’d sold Lily and James to Voldemort. It was a fresh betrayal, yes, but at least one he could wrap his head around. Remus felt like the world finally made sense. When he felt he could finally talk again, he continued. “Unless _he_ was the one. Unless you switched, without telling me.”

Sirius was still looking at Remus, still expressionless, but his eyes were wide open. He nodded and, just like that, the two Siriuses in Remus’ head—the one from his school years and the one after James and Lily’s murder, two shadows that had been torturing him with their dissonance—, finally became one again.

Harry said something but Remus wasn’t listening. It was like the room disappeared except for Sirius and him. He lowered his wand and, feeling like he was inside a dream, walked towards the other man. Their hands connected, Remus pulled him to his feet, and then hugged him. Sirius body was thin and wiry, nothing like the strong young man he remembered. He smelled of sweat, earth, and also a little bit like wet dog. It was so familiar it made Remus dizzy. He would’ve stayed like that for eternity if Hermione hadn’t started shouting.

“I don’t believe it!” she screamed, bringing Remus back to reality with a start. He quickly broke the embrace and turned around to find the girl standing up, gaping at him. “You… You…”

Remus tried to calm her, but it was no use. She kept screaming and looking at him with such disappointment in her eyes it stung. When she wouldn’t stop interrupting him, he raised his voice.

“Hermione listen to me, please!” he begged, almost yelling too. “I can explain.”

But then Harry started shouting and Remus felt the situation getting out of hand–well, more than it already was.

“I TRUSTED YOU! And all the time you’ve been his friend!” Harry shrieked. His look of betrayal hurt even more than Hermione’s.

Given that raising his voice hadn’t worked, he took a breath and tried to deescalate de situation by speaking in a calm voice. “You’re wrong. I haven’t been Sirius’ friend for twelve years, but I am now. Let me explain.”

It was no use.

“No! Harry don’t trust him!” intervened Hermione. “He’s been helping Black get into the castle. He wants you dead too! He’s a _werewolf_.”

There was a silence. As the two boys looked at him in abject horror, Remus felt dizzy, removed from the situation. Like he was looking at everything from outside his own body. He’d known they’d find out at some point. He’d been dreading it, yes, but he’d also expected it. Then why did he feel so strange? So… detached. As if all of this was happening to someone else.

When he talked again, his voice was steady, almost serene. As though he was talking to an especially difficult student, he explained how he hadn’t been helping Sirius enter the castle. “But I won’t deny that I am a werewolf,” he added, and then he heard a slight shake in his own voice.

Apparently, Hermione had known since Snape’s essay. A twinge of anger made its way through the fog in his brain. The twat. He’d be thrilled that one of his plans for outing him had worked.

He heard the bed creak and his attention was once again diverted to Sirius. The man had sunk into the bed, his face hidden between his shaking hands. Seeing him so vulnerable made all of Remus’ feelings come back at once. The fear, fury, melancholy and, beneath it all, the joy of finally being with Sirius again. It was all so intense that, for a second, he couldn’t do anything but stare. Then the cat jumped onto Sirius’ lap and Remus mentally slapped himself. _Focus_ , he thought, _the situation is critical. You need the kids to trust you_.

Thus, he did the only think he could think of: Give them back their wands. Once the three of them had caught them, finally silent from shock, he talked again. “You’re armed, we are not. Now, will you listen?”

And he started talking.

When he looked back on that night, it was difficult to separate the events that followed. He knew he’d told them his story, but it was all jumbled in his head. How he’d felt though, that he’d never forget. Baring his soul to a bunch of teenagers had been exhausting; revealing his secrets and reliving his school years for them to judge. It was cathartic in a way, yes. It had helped him process this new facet of the story, which involved Peter’s treachery and Sirius spending more than ten years wrongfully imprisoned. All the same, seeing Sirius in this new light… it was almost unbearable. The man’s intense thirst for revenge, the violence, that faraway look. All those things were even more painful paired with his usual mannerisms and deep voice. The worst had been when, at some point, Sirius had made for Ron, trying to take Peter and kill him on the spot. Remus had had to restrain him. In that moment, feeling the violence contracting his body like a wild animal’s, he had a glimpse of how broken Sirius had really become.

Through the mess of memories, there were some bits he recalled more clearly than others. Snape’s hateful expression as he’d entered the room, for example, would always be seared into his brain. It had been a mix of victory and animosity so foul, it had twisted his face into something that didn't look human. Although Remus had enjoyed how the kids had rendered him unconscious, he’d taken no pleasure in seeing the lengths he’d go for vengeance.

There was also the moment he and Sirius had almost killed Peter. He’d never forget the rush of adrenalin, the look he'd exchanged with Sirius, their kinship in a hate as profound as Snape's. Sometimes, he couldn’t stand knowing he’d been about to kill a man in cold blood, just for revenge. Others, knowing that Peter was still out there made him so angry, he regretted listening to Harry and not killing him on the spot. Those days, he reckoned his soul was a little price to pay for justice.

The worst thing to revisit though, was how it had all ended for him. His transformation. He was still furious at himself for forgetting to take his potion, still lay awake some nights, berating himself for his carelessness. It’d been the reason Snape had found them in the first place, but worst of all, it was what had allowed Peter to escape. He’d never forget how his skin started stretching, his bones breaking, while he tried with all his might to stay human, knowing it was absolutely useless. The desperation, the self-loathing of putting innocent kids in danger, all because he’d been negligent. He should’ve known better.

The last thing he remembered from that night, before everything went dark, was an enormous black dog with grey eyes, leaping towards him in an attempt to stop him. Not even the pain and shame of transformation was able to dampen the joy of seeing Padfoot for the first time in twelve years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked Sirius' introduction! I can't believe there's only one chapter left before I'm done with this... It's been a journey.
> 
> Remember: comments feed my soul.


	7. Chapter 7

Remus woke up with a start. He was laying on something hard and the sun in his eyes made it hard for him to see properly. Putting a hand over his face to block the light, Remus looked around and saw he was laying somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. With a flash, memories from last night started flooding him. Merlin’s beard, he’d transformed in front of the kids! _I need to know if they’re okay_ , he though frantically. But as he attempted to rise, his hands slipped on the ground, unable to hold his weight. He tried again with the same results, except this time there was sharp sting on his arm; his sudden movement has reopened one of the numerous wounds that peppered his skin.

He didn’t try again. For what could’ve been only minutes or hours, Remus just lay there, feeling the breeze caressing his bruised body. Every time he thought he was ready to try again, a new wave of self-loathing hit him, making him stay glued to the forest floor. He felt so, so tired.

Who knows how long he would’ve stayed there if it wasn’t for Hagrid. The gamekeeper stumbled upon him by chance—apparently, he’d been searching for Buckbeak the hippogriff, who’d escaped last night. As soon as he saw Remus, he helped him up, lifting him as easily as if he was a puppy instead of a full-grown man.

“Yer a’ight?” he asked, his voice worried.

“Yes, don’t worry,” Remus lied, trying not to wobble too much. “Just post-transformation tiredness, nothing that a visit to Madam Pomfrey can’t fix.”

“If yeh say so,” mumbled Hagrid, but he didn’t sound convinced. He put one of his enormous arms around Remus to help him support his weight, and then started to walk. “We outta stop by m’cabin fer somethin’ to cover yeh up, though.” Hagrid let out one of his deep laughs. “Imagine what’d the kids say if they saw yeh like this, aye?”

For the first time since he’d woken up, Remus registered the fact that he was completely naked. He didn’t even have the energy to feel ashamed. The hike to Hagrid’s cabin didn’t seem to end. Every step they took made a new bruise ache—and Hagrid’s long strides didn’t exactly help. When they finally arrived at their destination, Remus slumped against one of the walls of the cabin to wait while Hagrid retrieved something to cover him up. The gamekeeper returned with a shirt so large it worked more as a robe, but at least it covered all the important bits.

On their way to the castle, Hagrid chatted cheerfully while Remus just concentrated on each step. Fortunately, it was still early, so there wasn’t anyone else on the grounds and the castle windows still looked dark. Nobody would see him in this deplorable state. They were halfway to the castle, when Hagrid said something that made Remus look up so abruptly his neck cracked.

“…An’ with Sirius Black’s escape an’ all…”

“What?” he exclaimed. His voice broke, from emotion or lack of use, he couldn’t tell.

Hagrid looked alarmed at Remus’ reaction, but then seemed to remember that the man had spent the whole night roaming through the forest in wolf form. “Sirius Black got captured by professor Snape, was _this_ close to bein’ kissed by one of those Dementors an’ then, poof!” Hagrid made a gesture with his hands. “He was jus’… gone. The Minister’s lost his mind ‘bout it, that’s fer certain. ‘Course it don’t surprise me, if he managed to escape Azkaban…”

Hagrid kept talking about Sirius’ disappearance the rest of the way and Remus absorbed every detail, his injuries completely forgotten. He was so focused on Hagrid's words, he ended up tripping on one of the steps leading to the entrance. He would’ve fallen face first into the ground if it hadn’t been for the other man's reflexes. Still, he didn't care. Sirius was alive and free, and that was all that mattered.

When they finally arrived at the Hospital Wing, Remus felt like he was about to pass out. Be it because of exhaustion or the new information, it was clear the last 24 hours had been too much. The doors to the Infirmary were still closed, so Hagrid pounded on them with one of his enormous fists, which made them tremble dangerously. Moments later, Madam Pomfrey stuck out her head looking annoyed, but when she saw Remus she opened the doors at once.

“Professor Lupin, you look dreadful! Come in, come in.” She was still wearing her pyjamas, but didn’t lose a second guiding Remus to the nearest bed and making him lie down. The mattress felt like heaven on Remus' bruised back. 

Before he could get too comfortable though, Hagrid cleared his throat. “Before I go, I was meanin’ ter ask…” he hesitated, looking ashamed. “On yer… night stroll, did yeh happen ter see Buckbeak?”

Remus didn’t know if he’d hurt anyone during his transformation, but at least he was sure he hadn’t injured or killed anything after. “Don’t worry, I didn’t eat last night,” he said with a dark smile.

Hagrid let out a sigh of relief and his grin returned. “Good, good. See yeh around, then!” And with that, he left the Infirmary, whistling happily.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over him for a while. As she patched him up and gave him a restorative potion, he realized they weren’t alone; other three beds were also being occupied. He was going to ask about it when he recognized them. His heart leaped: It was Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“Are they okay?” he murmured. He couldn’t help the shake in his voice.

After Madam Pomfrey understood who he was talking about, she gave a tired sigh. “Yes, thankfully. Potter and Granger just need a bit of rest. Weasley though…“ she shook her head. “The poor boy’s leg was broken in three places. He’ll recover, of course, but it was a nasty piece of work.”

Remus felt a weight lift from his shoulders; those were the same injuries they’d brandished before his transformation; he hadn’t hurt them. At least he had that to console himself with.

Once Madam Pomfrey was done with his last bandage, she kept hovering over his bed—maybe trying to make up for all the times he hadn’t accepted to stay at the Infirmary. Wanting to be alone, Remus tried to shake her off by saying that he just needed to nap for a while. She tried to protest, and Remus couldn’t help the edge in his voice when he retorted: “I’ve lived with this condition for more than thirty years now, I know what I need.”

She looked a bit offended as she closed the bed’s curtains, which made him feel a pang of guilt. Remus managed to push the emotion aside, for he had enough to worry about as it was. Instead of sleeping, he intended to use his time in the Hospital Wing to think, yet he couldn’t keep his eyes open. After a few seconds of looking intently at the ceiling, his lids started drooping against his will. Before he could stop himself, Remus fell deep into a blissful dreamless sleep.

Remus woke up a little before noon feeling much more like himself. This time, when Madam Pomfrey started to fuss over him he just let her, still a bit guilty over his harsh words. When she finally allowed him to go, he summoned some robes from his rooms, got dressed quickly, and decided to go find something to eat. Breakfast had finished a long time ago and lunch wouldn’t start for another hour, so Remus determined a quick trip to the kitchens was in order.

As he crossed the Entrance Hall, he passed a bunch of students on their way to the grounds, to whom he smiled at, as per usual. They didn’t smile back though. Moreover, they looked at him curiously and whispered to one other. Remus felt his stomach do a flip; something had happened, and it probably wasn’t good. Maybe it had to do with what had happened last night, perhaps the rumour that he had some relation to Sirius had spread? A sense of dread spread though his body, tensing his already sore muscles. Trying to ignore his dark premonition, he soldiered on towards the kitchens.

The elves were delighted to attend him, as always. They regaled him with a mix of breakfast and lunch dishes, and even shared a piece of a chocolate tart that had just been taken out of the oven. He didn’t learn what had happened until he was on his way to his rooms and found himself face to face with professor McGonagall.

“There you are!” she said, putting her hands over his shoulders to then proceed to examine his face. “Are you okay?”

Remus nodded. “Yes, yes, it was a little rougher than usual, but it was just another transformation.”

McGonagall looked at him quizzically, before a look of horror crossed her face. Her hands fell from his shoulders. “You don’t know yet,” she said matter-of-factly, a slight crease between her eyebrows.

Remus felt as if a trickle of cold water was slowly falling down his back, paralyzing him. He’d been right, something _had_ happened. His mouth, however, wouldn’t move, so he just stared at McGonagall.

“This morning, professor Snape told the Slytherins about your…” she hesitated. “Condition.” Her eyes overflowed with pity. “I’m sorry, Remus.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied automatically. There was a silence during which neither of them spoke. McGonagall appeared to be trying to think of something to say, but Remus didn’t really notice—his mind was working a hundred miles per hour. Finally, he shook his head, seeming to return to reality. “I need to speak to Dumbledore.”

He started walking towards the Headmaster’s office. McGonagall followed. “Why? What are you going to do?” she said, matching his quick pace.

It was difficult for Remus to respond. Saying the words out loud gave them a finality he didn’t know if he was prepared for. Nevertheless, he didn’t have a choice. As soon as McGonagall had told him, he'd known what he needed to do.

“I’m going to Dumbledore’s to present my resignation.”

Inwardly he added, just to himself: _And to finally confess all of my sins_.

* * *

The empty Grindylow tank reflected the light, creating little rainbows around the walls and ceiling of Remus’ rooms. _Former rooms_ , he reminded himself. A warm breeze entered through the open window, bringing with it a glimpse of the glorious day outside. Inside, however, there was only the coldness of a half-vacated room. 

Deep down, he'd known he couldn’t stay. Leaving was the only thing to do, and he'd known it as soon as he’d woken up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, praying that he hadn’t hurt anyone. The news of Snape’s actions had just been the catalyst. Once the shock had dissipated, he found he wasn’t even that mad at the Potion's Master; after all, he’d spoken the truth. And who could blame him? He _was_ a werewolf, a menace to society, and after the events of the night before he couldn’t stay in good conscience. Informing Dumbledore of his resignation was hard, but it had been nothing compared to the torture that was finally telling him the truth. But he owed it to the Headmaster and to himself, so that when he left, he could do so without any unfinished business.

Dumbledore’s reaction had been exactly what he’d expected; disappointment mixed with understanding. It would had been better if he’d just shouted at him. But that was Dumbledore; always empathetic, always forgiving. He’d even offered Remus a glowing recommendation, for Merlin’s sake! Even after everything that’d he’d done, the Headmaster kept giving him a chance. And there he was, taking advantage of his kindness time and time again.

Remus summoned a bunch of books and put them in his suitcase so forcefully, that one of the spines broke. He took a breath, trying to control the waves of anger and frustration that seized him. It was so unfair. He was almost forty years old and was still overwhelmed by the injustice of it all. The bad hand he’d been given and, worst of all, the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it. An intense desire to smash everything in the room overtook him, the impulse so strong he started shaking.

And then it passed, as it always did. Because, what was the point? After all, the only person his fury ended up hurting was himself.

Once he managed to pack most of his possessions, Remus examined the empty room, checking if he’d missed anything—he’d double checked already, but he was nothing if not thorough. The fruitless inspection only left him with a mix of melancholy and nostalgia, as if he’d already left. It had undoubtedly been an eventful year. He’d been through a lot, suffered, mourned, but also felt content, accomplished… less lonely. It’d been painful in the best way possible.

There were just a few things left to pack, two of them resting on the table in the corner: James’ old Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map. He should probably find a way to return the cloak to Harry, but what about the Map? The cloak was Harry’s, but the Marauder’s Map was Remus’ creation. And it was dangerous. Should he take it with him? Should he give it back to Harry? He wasn’t a teacher anymore, so it wouldn’t be _that_ irresponsible to leave it. Now that Sirius wasn’t a threat, it couldn’t be considered any more than a little gateway to mischief. And it certainly would’ve been what James wanted…

Maybe thinking he'd get some inspiration from it, Remus approached the table and took out his wand. " _I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good_." As it'd done a million times before, ink started showing on the parchment, forming a perfect drawing of the castle. The object of years of study, exploring and breaking the rules with his friends. Every line accurate and true, and over everything the words " _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers"._ He never failed to laugh reading them. 

While examining it absentmindedly, he noticed a dot labelled “Harry Potter”. It was moving quickly, walking past students on their way to enjoy the warm weather, instead headed directly to… Remus’s office.

Remus followed its course until the sound of footsteps reached him. “I saw you coming,” he said once the dot entered the little rectangle that corresponded to his office. He turned around with a smile to find the boy standing in the entrance of the room, his hair as messy as ever and a little sweaty. 

“I was with Hagrid and he told me you quit,” he said immediately, looking winded. “It isn’t true, is it?”

There genuine distress in his face, which made his green eyes stand out even more behind the glasses. For a second, Remus felt like he had gone back in time. Almost twenty years ago, Lily Evans had worn the same expression when she'd discovered he was a werewolf. Then Remus blinked and he was in the present again, staring as his favorite student watched him pleadingly. It was sad, yes, but also kind of comforting, that link between Remus, Harry and his mother. 

“I’m afraid so,” he managed to reply, then turned around to finish his packing.

Harry didn’t give up easily. As he’d expected, he questioned and prodded until he found out exactly what had happened. Once he knew the truth, however, he didn’t let go, but challenged Remus’ decision to quit, seeming absolutely outraged at the idea. “You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” he exclaimed. “Please don’t go!”

Remus was so overwhelmed with emotion he didn’t say anything for a bit, just kept rearranging the last items in his suitcase. It was hard to know how to feel. It was heartbreaking, yet also quite nice to realize he’d be missed, to know that Harry valued him so much. Before the boy could charge again with another reason he should stay, Remus was able to find his voice again. Thinking quickly, he stirred the conversation towards Harry’s Patronus. Dumbledore had told him about it, and it’d made him feel so proud it almost cancelled out the pain of leaving.

After this display, he couldn’t help giving the Map back to Harry. Maybe it was a bit reckless, not the adult thing to do, but he liked to think he did it for James. For all those years of friendship and loyalty. For all the times he’d woken up after the full moon to find him sitting next to him, drooling over his hand, unable to stay awake. It would’ve made him incredibly happy to know his son had inherited some of his penchant for mischief.

Their exchange was put to an end by Dumbledore’s entrance. Seeing him after their cathartic meeting that same morning, made his stomach churn with a mix of shame and a strong desire to run away.

“Your carriage has arrived, Remus.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,“ he said as he took his suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank, thankful to finally get this over with. Yet, before exiting the room, he turned towards Harry and addressed him with his warmest smile. “Well. Goodbye, Harry. It’s been a pleasure being your teacher. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” 

Then he left. He tried to depart as quickly as possible, so as not to prolong his goodbyes any longer—it was all painful enough already. And with one last look at Harry, he bid farewell to his home for the past year.

Remus’ walk towards the exit was quick and perfunctory. As he descended staircases and passed through hallways filled with familiar portraits, he stared straight ahead, willing himself not to fall into another fit of nostalgia. He’d already had his emotional tantrum in his former office, now it was time to get the hell out of that place and keep moving forwards.

Life, however, has a circular quality, and it still had one more surprise in store for him. In a true move to prevent Remus from leaving behind any unfinished business, destiny put Severus Snape on his path. Just as he was about to reach the Entrance Hall, his familiar nasal voice addressed him. It made him stop dead in his tracks, right in the middle of the stairs.

“Leaving, Lupin?” Snape drawled from his place a dozen steps up.

For a second, Snape’s smug expression made Remus so furious he wasn’t able to utter a reply. In that moment, he thought himself capable of punching Snape’s face beyond recognition. Oh, what a satisfying crunch his nose would make as it broke against his fist… But as quickly as it had appeared, the feeling faded, leaving just emptiness behind. And for the first time since he’d arrived at the castle, Remus saw Snape for what he really was: A sad, hateful man, still stuck on petty teenage grudges.

As the person responsible for the now public nature of his condition, he would’ve been completely justified to channel all of his anger towards him. Even if the fact that he was a werewolf was bound to get out sooner or later, Snape had been the one to put the nail in the coffin. It would’ve been too easy to fall again into that familiar pattern of hate. But what was the point? What good did it really do?

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he finally replied in a calm voice.

His attitude seemed to take Snape by surprise, leaving him speechless for a few seconds. He recovered rapidly though, and immediately charged again. “On your way to join you boyfriend?”

Remus shrugged, the corners of his mouth rising slightly. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll see him somewhere.”

Those words didn’t amuse Snape at all. As a matter of fact, Remus noticed that a few veins on his neck and temple started protruding. The other man took a few steps down, to get closer to Remus and be able to talk to him eye to eye. “I don’t care what Dumbledore says, I know you had something to do with this whole thing. And as soon as I find out what was your part in it, you’ll be regretting more than the loss of a job.”

Remus met his gaze without flinching and then smiled. “You do that. Goodbye, Severus. It was a pleasure.”

And, without looking back, he left the closest place to a home he’d had in a long while.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was always busy during the Summer time, full to the brim with wizards coming from the country to spend a few days in the city or tourists wanting to get a glimpse from the marvels of muggle London. Getting a room without a reservation was almost impossible. Thankfully, Remus had worked for the barkeeper in the past and managed to secure one for a few days, just until he found a permanent place to stay. The room was small and dim, a space Tom usually reserved for when employees needed a nap or somewhere to stay. The small window, narrow and no more than a foot long, faced a busy street in muggle London. Being inside meant dealing with the constant sounds of people and cars, although Remus didn’t really mind. It was a small price to pay to have a place to sleep.

It was the second day since he’d arrived at the inn. Night had fallen, so the usual buzz of busy passerby had been replaced by drunk shouts and the pounding of distant bass. Remus’ day had been divided into looking for work and a place to stay. Unsurprisingly, there had been no luck with the first, but at least he’d found a good candidate for his new home. It was a ran down apartment in the outskirts of London, but the rent was cheap, the landlord seemed reasonable and there didn’t appear to be any rats.

Remus threw himself onto the bed, exhausted. He was so tired he even considered sleeping like that—his clothes were already old and rumpled anyways. He’d almost dozed off when the sound of tapping glass startled him, making him sit up immediately. There was an owl on the window ledge, pecking the glass impatiently. The owl didn’t seem amused by Remus' slowness; as soon as he let it in, the bird perched itself on the nightstand, offering its leg in a dignified manner. Once Remus was finally able to extricate the letter from it—in his defense, it had been tied _very_ well—, the owl flew from the room without a second glance.

“Thank you, I guess,” said Remus, in an amused whisper.

He looked at the envelope and his heart jumped. It only sported his name, yet the elegant handwriting was unmistakable. Remus was so eager to open the letter he practically tore the envelope in half. It wasn’t long, but as Remus’ scanned it feverishly a genuine smile started illuminating his features.

Dear Moony,

I should start off by saying I’m okay. Buckbeak and I are on our way out of England, hopefully headed somewhere remote and sunny. I think we deserve it, after the hell we’ve been through. I’m mostly looking forward to acquiring a tan myself, you’ve seen how captivity does nothing for my complexion.

I hope you’re doing okay, even after the mess we made of things that night. I don’t know what was more surprising, seeing you or your grey hair. You’ve become an old man, Moony—although I have to admit the wizened look suits you. You know what didn’t surprise me at all though? That you became a professor. I’m glad to see that all our teasing at school didn’t discourage you from going into the noble profession. I can picture it perfectly: You, standing in front of the class, wearing one of your horrible sweaters, giving a lecture with that calm voice of yours, listening and answering every question with infinite patience. You should shout at them from time to time, you know? It builds character.

In all seriousness, I hope you stick to it, the kids seemed to like you a lot.

And speaking of kids! I can’t believe how big Harry has become. Remember when he used to zoom through James and Lily’s house in that little broomstick of his? And now he’s a proper Quidditch player. I don’t know if you saw him play—I sneaked into a Quidditch match myself, I have to admit—, but I dare say he’s as good as James was in his prime. He’s also as brave as both his parents combined and as reckless as I was at his age. Good to see that the new generation still has it in them; somebody has to stick it to the man, now that we’ve become old sods.

I feel like there’s so much we should talk about, yet I don’t know how to fit it into a single letter. Maybe when I return to England, we could see each other face to face and talk properly. For now, though, I guess we’ll have to make do with this. It feels funny writing to you though. More so because, even if it’s been more than a decade, it still feels so familiar, like we never stopped corresponding at all…

I’ve missed ~~you~~ this.

Anyway, I hope you write back, I’m looking forward to reading that chicken scratch handwriting of yours.

Padfoot

P.S.: Please send some chocolate with your next letter, I know you always have some. I’ve been dying for one of Honeyduke’s finest, but didn’t get the chance to nick any while on the run—priorities, you know. If you’re good and write soon, maybe I’ll even send you a souvenir.

P.P.S.: And please eat properly, you’re a full-grown man now, for Merlin’s sake. You’ve got no business being that thin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! This was mostly my means of therapy, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways.


End file.
